


Starbright

by MishaBerry



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Issues, Gaslighting, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse, Recovery, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 40,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishaBerry/pseuds/MishaBerry
Summary: They chased Johnny out over the water, and Peter wondered what this thing’s goal was. If it wanted to hurt people in Johnny’s name, the city was a much easier place to do so. Over the waves, Johnny could do little to anyone aside from perhaps some stray boats. As it was, Johnny was just hovering in the air, looking up at the sky, as though searching for something.Peter watched Johnny warily as they approached. There was something in the way Johnny was holding himself that made anxious snakes slither around in this guts. When they were almost close enough to reach Johnny again, Johnny suddenly flamed off and plummeted towards the water.___When an evil entity takes over Johnny and the people who love him have to go inside his mind to get it out, there are unexpected consequences.





	1. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know Traincat already did a 'psychic vampire makes everyone Johnny love know how shitty he feels' fic, but I got pretty inspired by that fic and a bunch of other things from her blog and whoops I wrote 38 pages of Johnny angst. It's not edited and I'm running short on time right now so I'll have to come back to this later but for now I just want it up.
> 
> Edit: Hi so I'm back and have more time. So what happened was that I ready every single one of traincat's SpideyTorch fics, then trawled her blog for a few days and I just couldn't help myself. I really love her take on Johnny and I cannot resist characters that are basically angst held together by how stupidly pretty they are. There will be a part II to this, but I won't spoil what happens.
> 
> Incase you didn't read the tags, trigger warning for suicide attempts.

It was a Thursday when it finally happened. There was no particular reason for it to have happened on that day; just a normal meetup at the Usual Place. It was nearing dusk, the setting sun casting the sky in an wonderous array of pinks, oranges, yellows, and contrasting blues. In the fading light Johnny almost seemed to glow with radiant golden light, his blue eyes bright enough to make stars jealous.

“So,” Johnny asked, licking mustard off his fingers, “how have things been?”

“Things have been fine,” Peter said, reaching for another hotdog from the pile Johnny had brought. “Just as weird as usual.”

“So balls to the wall crazy, is what you're saying?” Johnny teased, grinning.

“Pretty much,” Peter said. He glanced over at Johnny. “What about you? Things must be great, now that everyone’s back.”

Johnny smiled. “Yeah, things are great. I really missed everyone.”

“I know,” Peter said, a pang resounding in his chest at the thought of how sullen Johnny had been throughout the time Sue and Reed and the kids had all been missing. “I missed them too.”

They lapsed into silence. Peter watched Johnny out of the corner of his eye. Of course Peter had missed Reed and Sue and Val and Franklin, had felt their absence like holes in his vital organs, but Johnny… it had nearly _destroyed_ Johnny. He’d been so hopeful in the beginning, so sure that his family was on their way back, that they would show up in a matter of days with some wild tale about how they got stuck somewhere out in the cosmos. But the days had turned into weeks, into months, into over a _year_ , with no indication that they were even _alive_. When Ben had left, Johnny had seemed so lost. Peter had tried his best to keep track of Johnny, but with Parker Industries long spiral downward into the spectacular trainwreck it had become and all the usual craziness that came from being Spider-Man, Peter just hadn’t had as much time as he would have liked.

It didn’t matter anymore, Peter decided. Sue and Reed and the kids were back now and things could start getting back to normal. Ben and Alicia had married and everyone was settling in at 4 Yancy street. Johnny was better now and it was all in the past.

“I’m glad you’re doing better,” Peter said, “I was getting pretty worried about you for a bit there.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you,” Johnny teased, reaching up to pat Peter’s cheek.

Peter huffed and smacked his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again.”

Johnny laughed. “Seriously man, I was fine. You don't have to worry about me. I’m always fine.”

“Sure,” Peter said, something strange curling in his chest at that, but unable to completely put his finger on it, “but you're doing much better now, right?”

“Of course,” Johnny said, smiling and looking out over the bay, “I’ve never been better.”

Peter watched Johnny for a while, wishing he had his camera to capture Johnny in the sunset. Johnny always looked good, but Johnny in the sunset was particularly breathtaking, like the whole sky was conspiring to ruin Peter’s life. The colours, the light, the atmosphere, everything served to make Peter’s heart pound in his chest every time he so much as glanced at Johnny. The arc of his cheekbones, the gentle sweep of his golden eyelashes, his full, pink lips, Johnny might have well been a sunset himself with how heart-stoppingly beautiful he was.

“Hey Peter?” Johnny said suddenly, turning to look at Peter with a surprisingly serious look.

“Yeah?” Peter asked, breaking himself out of his reverie.

“Do you—?” Johnny cut himself off, then continued. “Do you remember a while back when you called me?”

“When I called you?” Peter asked. “I call you a lot.”

Johnny searched Peter’s face, then smiled softly. “Yeah, you do. Nevermind.”

“You sure?” Peter asked, still a little disturbed over how serious Johnny had looked.

Johnny hummed and turned back to continue basking in the sun. “Don’t worry about it Pete.”

“Okay,” Peter said, extending the last syllable out more than it needed. He tried to shake the feeling that he was missing something important.

“Sorry about Baxter,” Peter said after they’d sat in silence for a while. He couldn't shake the weird atmosphere.

“Dude, I already told you, it’s fine,” Johnny said, waving him off. “I know you tried your best.”

“Still,” Peter grumbled. If he’d just held onto it for a few more months, just a bit longer, he could have kept it for them, just until they got back.

“Peter, you’ve been doing this as long as I have,” Johnny said. “This is not the first time we’ve lost Baxter. By this time next year, we’ll have it back. We always come back to it.”

“True,” Peter said. He smiled. “At least it wasn't shot into space this time.”

Johnny laughed. “Or the Negative Zone,” he pointed out.

“Or blown up,” Peter said, laughing as well.

The two of them continued laughing, creating a feedback loop between them. Soon they’d collapsed against each other, unable to hold themselves up without the other. Peter recovered first, and took the chance to watch Johnny laugh, his head thrown back and the curve of his throat on display.

Peter suddenly couldn't help himself anymore, he could no longer contain his feelings for Johnny. Being a man of action, he’d done the only logical thing and leaned forward to kiss Johnny, catching the remnants of his laughter on his lips.

Johnny made a surprised noise, which Peter drank in like a man dying of thirst. After a moment—where Peter almost pulled away, disappointment starting to make itself at home in his chest—Johnny threw himself into the kiss, surging forward and parting his lips to deepen the kiss. Peter’s heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He curled one arm around Johnny’s waist and pulled him closer, almost pulling him onto his lap. Johnny whined into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck, one hand coming up to tangle in Peter’s mask-matted hair. Peter could have spent a _lifetime_ trying to coax more of that noise out of Johnny.

Eventually they broke the kiss feeling as though it had gone on forever and not long enough. Johnny was panting, the two of them close enough that Peter could feel his breath against his lips. Impossibly blue eyes stared into Peter’s brown eyes, searching for some sort of answer.

“Peter,” Johnny breathed, sending shivers up Peter’s spine, “what?”

“I love you,” Peter blurted out, never good with his mouth when it really counted.

Johnny’s eyes widened, but then, quick as a flash, they narrowed in anger. Peter yelped as Johnny’s hips under his hands suddenly got way too hot to hold onto. He jolted back as sparks lanced up Johnny’s body.

“What the hell!?” Johnny cried. “After all this time, _now_ you decide to kiss with me? What the fuck Peter!?”

“It fit the moment!” Peter protested, shaking out his hands and trying to lean away from Johnny without upending him from his lap. “Wait, ‘after all this time’?”

Johnny threw up his hands. “I’ve been in love with you for _years_ you moron!” he shouted. “How did you not _notice_!?”

“Wha—? Hey, _you_ were the one who never showed any indication!” Peter fired back. “I’ve been flirting you for years!”

“Yeah but you’re _you_ !” Johnny said, “You flirt with _everyone_! You flirted with Hydro-Man yesterday!”

 _Whoops I do do that_ , Peter thought, flushing. “That’s differ—!”

“And what the hell do you _mean_ I’ve never showed any indication?” Johnny cut him off. “I showed up _naked_ in your _bed_ ! I asked you if you wanted to watch my _sex tape_!”

Peter flushed slightly, remembering those incidents in stark detail. “Well yeah but—”

“Peter,” Johnny growled, sending a thrill through Peter’s body. _Wow they were still so close_ . “I left you my _family_ in my will. I’ve been in love with you since we were _teenagers_.”

Peter stared at Johnny, the pieces starting to fall into place in his head. “Oh wow, I’m a fucking idiot,” he said.

“Yeah, no shit,” Johnny seethed, tendrils of heat still rising from his shoulders.

“It’s not like you noticed either!” Peter defended. “How did you not notice I was flirting with you for real? There’s a difference!”

“There’s _no_ difference!” Johnny shot back.

“There’s a _huge_ difference!” Peter threw up his arms. He was about to start into another tirade when he suddenly realized what they were doing. “Dude, why are we fighting? We both want to kiss each other.”

Johnny stopped, his features softening. He looked into Peter’s face for a minute before they both collapsed into laughter, clinging to each other to hold themselves up.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Johnny said shakily between sobs of laughter, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder, “we’re both so stupid.”

“The biggest fucking idiots on the planet,” Peter agreed, wrapping his arms around Johnny’s waist again.

Eventually their giggles subsided, leaving them feeling light and bubbly. Peter could feel Johnny trembling against him and tightened his arms, pulling him close so they were flush against each other.

“Only we would find out that we’re in love with each other and fight about it instead of kissing more,” Peter said, smiling softly and nuzzling into Johnny’s hair. He smelled like expensive shampoo and trace amounts of ash.

Johnny chuckled again. He pulled back slightly and looked down into Peter’s eyes, the delicate fan of his golden lashes framing his arresting blue eyes in the perfect way. Peter wished he had his camera. “We should probably fix that,” Johnny breathed against his lips.

“Yes,” Peter sighed, tilting his head for the best angle just as Johnny fell into him.

The second kiss was just as electrifying as the first. Johnny’s lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of expensive lip balm, and Peter wanted to remember it forever. Peter growled and pressed forward, teeth grazing Johnny’s lips ever so slightly. Johnny parted his lips with a sigh and Peter took full advantage, surging up to map Johnny’s mouth with his tongue. Johnny moaned into the kiss, and Peter’s grasp on the sequence of events deteriorated from there. When he became aware of himself again, he was poised overtop of Johnny, pressing him down onto Lady Liberty’s head.

“Peter,” Johnny whined, biting his kiss-swollen lip.

Peter shivered. “Don’t _do_ that,” he growled, “just our luck a helicopter will happen by and see us.”

Johnny laughed, but he did let go of Peter’s shoulders, his hands falling back to the copper underneath him. Peter watched Johnny, wishing he could stay in this moment forever.

Eventually Johnny sat up, Peter pulling back to let him up. A moment passed and the mood shifted, a cold wind brushing passed them. Peter sat back down next to Johnny, close enough to feel his heat, but not touching him. Their hands were close enough that Peter could have twitched his pinky and brushed against Johnny’s.

“So what next?” Johnny asked, startling the air around them.

 _What next?_ Peter thought, trying to string together his thoughts into anything coherent. “Next…” he drawled, “I take you out for dinner.”

Johnny laughed. “You take _me_ out?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “Mr. Broke-as-all-hell? Yeah sure. Why don’t I take _you_ out?”

“What, you think I can’t afford to take you out?” Peter huffed.

“I think you can’t afford to take me to the places I’m used to,” Johnny said with an exaggerated toss of his head. “I’m accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle, you know.”

Peter barked out a laugh, unable to help it. “Okay okay, how about this,” he said through his giggles, “no going out. Instead, we stay in, watch a movie, I make dinner, and then,” Peter slid his fingertips up Johnny’s wrist, feeling the silk-smooth skin there, “we retire to the bedroom.”

Johnny hummed. “I think that’s a fair compromise,” he purred, “but I’ll do the cooking.”

“Deal,” Peter hummed, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss.

They kissed for a few more minutes, Peter revelling in the sweet, delicious slide of Johnny’s mouth over his. “I think this is the best day of my life,” he breathed.

Johnny smiled under Peter’s lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter stole another kiss. “What about you?”

Johnny hummed and nuzzled into Peter. “I’ve never felt better.”

* * *

Peter was on his way to meet with Johnny for a date. They’d been together for nearly a month now, but the way they were with one another would make one think they’d been together for years. Things had been going so well that Peter was starting to get a little paranoid, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When he saw the man howling and hurling rocks at the windows of the FF’s new building (the glass didn't even scratch and probably wasn’t even actually glass), he didn't even think that this could be that other shoe.

Spider-Man landed on 4 Yancy Street just above where the man was screaming and throwing rocks at the windows. “Now don’t get me wrong, gentrification makes me mad as hell too, but most people try to do something constructive with their anger. Have you tried crochet?”

The man shouted a string of curses that would have made Wolverine blush and threw another stone at Spider-Man. A crowd was starting to gather and Peter knew if he wanted to keep anyone from getting hurt, he had to act fast. With a few quick thwips, Spider-Man had the man pinned with his webbing. The man struggled and howled, and then went limp, like a marionette that had its string abruptly cut.

“Oops, I didn’t make this too tight did I?” Peter mused to no one, landing next to the webbed up man and starting to approach cautiously. The man didn't seem to have powers of any kind, Peter had learned over fifteen years of being Spider-Man not to trust how things _seemed_ (Mysterio _had_ been good for something after all).

The man stayed limp as a rag doll as Peter approached. Peter was actually starting to get concerned; crazy and throwing rocks at his boyfriend’s house aside, Peter didn't want to hurt him. He reached out to check the man’s pulse, hoping that he was fine.

As soon as Peter’s fingers brushed against the man’s skin, his head snapped up, eyes opening wide. They were completely black, not even looking like eyeballs, but more like two voids, sucking in all the light and piercing into Peter’s soul. Spider-sense blaring, Peter didn’t have time to dart away when a black smoke curled around his hand and shot up his arm, settling in his chest.

 _Shit_ , was Peter’s last thought before the all-consuming rage took over. Peter could feel it in every muscle of his body, the thought echoing through his mind; _rip them apart, keep punching until they can’t get up again. Hydro-Man, Shocker, Vulture, Sandman, Doctor Octopus, Green Goblin, rip them all to pieces!_

Spider-Man was moving before he’d even fully registered it, swinging through the air with a single-minded purpose; find every two-bit villain he’d ever faced off against, everyone who just simply _refused_ to stop, who just kept coming back to hurt _more_ people, and make it so that they _never_ got up again. Peter could do it, he knew he could, it would be _so_ easy. All he had to do was let go of his leash a little more.

A rush of heat at his side didn't even make him look up until Johnny was right next to him, flamed on and flying through the air. He was shouting something, but Peter couldn't hear it over the roaring in his ears. Suddenly one of his weblines snapped, melted by a fireball. Peter fell towards a rooftop, aiming to land so he could take off running across it. Johnny caught him before he hit it, flaming off enough that he could stare pleadingly into Peter’s mask.

“Spider-Man, what is going on?” Johnny asked, setting them down on the rooftop. “Are you okay? _Talk_ to me.”

The desperation, the fear and worry in Johnny’s voice, made something shift in Peter’s brain. Suddenly his thoughts of shredding his rogues gallery to bits left him and he was left with something else. _Protect Johnny, keep everyone away, keep him safe, don’t let anyone else touch him!_

Peter wrapped his arms around Johnny tightly, startling him and squeezing the air from his lungs. Johnny wheezed but didn't struggle.

“Spidey?” Johnny asked, concerned but unafraid. Behind him the rest of the Fantastic Four settled on the roof, carried by Sue’s force field.

Peter watched them approach and snarled, pulling Johnny closer and tucking him behind so Peter was between him and the rest of the Four. Sue stopped, putting her hand out to stay the others. The air felt as tense as piano wire, humming with anticipation. _Keep them away! He’s mine!_ Peter’s mind screamed at him. The world always took the things Peter loved away from him. Not this time. _Not this time_. Peter growled again and backed up, pulling Johnny along with him.

“Peter!” Johnny shouted, almost right in his ear. “What is wrong with you!?”

Peter turned back to Johnny, staring into his eyes. The rage melted away, and Peter’s mind if seized by the overwhelming desire to kiss Johnny. He wrapped one arm around Johnny’s waist, pulling him tightly against him, and using his other hand to push up his mask and then tilt Johnny’s head to kiss him roughly.

Johnny made a noise in his throat and Peter chased it. As he kissed him, Peter felt the tension leave his muscles. What was he doing? The all consuming thoughts were subsiding and Peter could feel a coldness slithering from his chest, out of his body. He pulled away from Johnny just in time to see an inky black smoke settle over Johnny’s face, crawling up his nose and into his mouth.

“Johnny?” Peter asked, heart pounding in his chest.

Johnny didn’t seem to hear him, his eyes going black, the same way the man’s eyes had been. Suddenly he shoved Peter back with force, causing Peter to stumble back into a brick wall that moved.

“Easy Webs,” Ben growled, setting Peter on his feet again. “Kid? Talk ta us Matchstick.”

There was a wavering in the air as Sue put up a force field around Johnny. Peter tensed and crouched, ready to pounce should the need arise.

“Spider-Man, what happened?” Reed asked, coming up to Peter and Ben’s side, his eyes not leaving Johnny.

“I—I’m not sure,” Peter said, tugging his mask down. “Some kind of mind control?”

That wasn’t completely accurate though; the thoughts had been Peter’s, the kind that only surfaced in his darkest moments, only entertained for a half-second before he shoved them down into the darkest spaces of his mind.

“Any idea how we get this thing out of my brother?” Sue asked, arms out and holding the force field in place. Peter knew from experience that a force field she was concentrating on that much wouldn’t budge even if the Hulk tried to smash it.

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “I think it hops from host to host.”

“Well, we can’t let it infect anyone else,” Reed said. “There has to be a way to contain it.”

At that moment, Johnny flamed on inside the force field. Peter tensed; Sue fields were air tight, and Johnny would burn off his oxygen quickly if he stayed flamed on. Sue knew this too, and Peter could see her control slip for just a moment as she decided what to do. Let Johnny burn through his oxygen and pass out, or give him some air and weaken the structure of the field?

Johnny solved the issue for then when he suddenly flared, hot and bright, like a miniature nova. The slightly weakened force field warped and buckled, blasted apart by the intense wave of heat. Sue yelped and crumpled, Reed stretching to her side to keep her from landing on her face. Johnny flew upwards slightly, and maybe it was a trick of the light, but Peter swore there was a black smoke trailing off the ends of his flames.

Before anyone could make a move towards him, Johnny flew off towards the water, leaving a blazing trail behind him. Peter swore and swung off to follow. There was no way he’d be able to catch Johnny; despite their many races through the years, Peter knew that when Johnny wanted to, he could reach speeds that rivaled _comets_. There was no way he was catching up to Johnny.

That didn’t mean he wasn't going to try though, Peter thought as he swung through the city trying to keep his eye on Johnny. Like a shooting star, Johnny arced over the city, heading for the Hudson. Peter swore and tried not to think about what the entity or creature or whatever it was controlling Johnny might do with his powers. People often mistook Johnny for being not a grand threat on the same level that Hulk or Captain Marvel could be, but Johnny had the power of a _star_ within him. Johnny could burn cities to ash in a matter of minutes if he wasn't the kind of person that got upset when he so much as accidentally singed someone.

“Spider-Man!” Reed called next to him. He and Ben were clinging to one of Sue’s force fields that she was riding through the air, grim determination on her face. Peter swung and pitched his body to land on Ben’s broad, rocky shoulder.

They chased Johnny out over the water, and Peter wondered what this thing’s goal was. If it wanted to hurt people in Johnny’s name, the city was a much easier place to do so. Over the waves, Johnny could do little to anyone aside from perhaps some stray boats. As it was, Johnny was just hovering in the air, looking up at the sky, as though searching for something.

Peter watched Johnny warily as they approached. There was something in the way Johnny was holding himself that made anxious snakes slither around in this guts. When they were almost close enough to reach Johnny again, Johnny suddenly flamed off and plummeted towards the water.

Sue screamed and Peter was already moving, spider sense blaring in his brain. A long rubbery arm stretched out alongside Peter as he kicked off of Ben’s shoulders hard enough to make the giant stumble. Peter shot out a webline to try and snag Johnny out of the air. Every second he fell brough Johnny closer to terminal velocity, the point where hitting the water would be much the same as hitting a concrete floor.

Out of sheer luck or good aim, the webline caught Johnny’s back. Peter twisted and grabbed Reed’s outstretched arm, making sure to pull Johnny in an arc so as not to jar him and snap his bones. Reed quickly began to reel them both in, up towards Ben’s waiting arms. His rocky skin would give him a few minutes of protection from Johnny’s heat.

Peter had almost made it back to the field when Johnny flamed on slightly, just enough to burn away the webline holding him up. Once again he dropped towards the water.

“No!” Peter shouted, making to leap after him again, but a flash of green light stopped him.

Doctor Strange materialized out of a portal, incanting something in a language Peter didn’t even bother trying to understand. Johnny suddenly snarled and made to twist away, but a ring of blue light encircled him, suspending him in the air. Johnny howled, the sound ripping through Peter’s chest like a jagged blade; it didn’t sound wrathful or borne of rage, but rather anguished and desperate.

Strange shouted a few more strings of nonsense words and Johnny went limp, held up around the middle like a doll held up by string. Doctor Strange let out a breath and flew up towards them.

“You need to come with me,” Strange said gravely.

* * *

It started with a girl on the subway. She wasn’t the usual kind of person to randomly go nuts; no history of mental health issues, no substance abuse, nothing that would indicate a sudden psychotic break. Witnesses said that she hadn’t even reacted to the man initially, when he’d first started winking at her and smacking his lips, obviously trying to get her attention. She’d just rolled her eyes and tried not to look at him. However, after a brief flicker of the lights on the train, she suddenly seemed to have changed. One witness claimed to have seen a kind of black smoke settle over the girl before she moved. As the lights came back on, the girl had stood up and marched over to the man. At first the man seemed to think that his lascivious display had won her over somehow, until she’d started to savagely beat him to a bloody pulp.

The girl wasn’t large at all, short but maybe on the heavy side; it took five officers to pull her off of the man, but not before she’d done some serious damage. Blood almost painted the walls of the traincar, the man’s skull just short of caved in. He had to be carried out of the station on a stretcher. Later, the girl said that she had no idea what had happened, only that she’d suddenly been seized by the idea to knock the pervert down a few pegs.

It was only the first of many incidents that week.

At first the incidents were largely dismissed as being random acts, but the incidents spoke of something else playing behind the scenes. Otherwise normal people with no prior history of violence or crime, suddenly snapping and going nuts, committing seemingly random acts of violence. An office worker took a baseball bat to his boss’s office; a teenager set fire to his father’s fancy car; an old man smashed the windows of a coffee shop; the incidents piled up. Each of the perpetrators said the same thing upon being apprehended, that they had been suddenly seized by the idea and couldn’t stop themselves from going through with it. Witnesses of the crimes often mentioned an inky black smoke, just at the edges of things, escaping quick enough that no one could be certain they’d seen anything.

“It’s a kind of parasitic demonic entity,” Strange explained, directing Ben to lay Johnny across a kind of altar, “possessing humans and feeding on their suppressed negative energies.”

“Suppressed negative energies?” Sue asked, not taking her eyes off Johnny as Ben laid him down as gently as he could; the blue ring of light still circled his middle, giving the impression that he was trussed up.

“People don’t go through life acting on every negative thing that crosses their mind,” Strange said, waving his hands over Johnny. The ring of light shivered and became brighter, stretching and warping until it became an oval encircling Johnny from head to toe, rather than his middle. “Someone annoys you by popping their gum loudly next to your ear, and you think a good punch in the mouth would make him stop, but you don’t act on that thought.”

“So what this creature does,” Reed hummed, “is strip our impulse control?”

“You could put it that way,” Strange said, gathering up some supplies and laying them out in seemingly random order. “It’s more like the creature forces people to act on their intrusive thoughts.”

“That checks out,” Peter said, remembering the feeling of the creature being inside his head. It wasn't that he’d _never_ thought of beating his rogues into steaming piles of mush just to finally make them _stop_ once and for all, it was that he’d never go through with it.

Sue frowned. “But Johnny didn't attack anyone,” she said. “He flew out over the water and flamed off.”

“Johnny would _never_ hurt anyone,” Peter insisted. “It’s his worst fear.”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “Mebbe he was tryin’ ta fight it off? Get it out of him?”

“It was almost as if he was trying to hurt _himself_ ,” Reed commented.

A strange pause followed Reed’s words. Peter felt something cold seize the back of his neck. Johnny didn't have a mean bone in his body, and Peter couldn’t think of Johnny in any scenario where he even wished harm on another person. Johnny could be rash and selfish sometimes, but hurt anyone? Never. Johnny would rather die than let people be hurt because of him. Was that what this creature was doing? Taking those thoughts to their logical extreme?

Something in Peter hoped so.

“Alright,” Ben growled, breaking the silence, “So how d’we get it outta him?”

“It’s not going to be easy,” Strange grimaced. “I’m going to need your help.”

“Whatever we can do,” Peter said, reaching forward to stroke Johnny’s hair, then thinking better of it. He didn't know if touching Johnny would disturb whatever rituals or spells Strange had cast over him. His hand was left hovering over Johnny’s unconscious face, Peter clenched it into a fist and put it back at his side. Johnny seemed peaceful, but Peter knew better than to think that meant he wasn’t in pain.

“It’s not going to be easy on _you_ either,” Strange said, eyes flicking between the four of them. “I need to extract the creature from where it’s holed itself up inside of Jonathan’s mind. I _also_ need to stay out here and prevent it from escaping Johnny’s mind and infecting someone else. I’m sure you can appreciate the logistical problem here.”

“You need us to go into Johnny’s mind?” Sue asked, guessing Strange’s plan.

“Yes,” Strange said. He hovered one trembling, scarred hand over Johnny’s head. “The creature is in deep. You're going to have to go through a lot of dark places in Jonathan’s mind. For a brief moment, you’ll experience all of his negative emotions, his memories. Most of it won’t retain, but enough of it will.”

“He’s my little brother, I can handle it,” Sue said, straightening her spine as though she intended to challenge Strange on her assertion.

“Maybe,” Strange said, “But there are pieces of ourselves we all guard, even from the people who know us best, who we love the most.”

The strange silence crept back, unwelcome and brittle. Sue pressed her lips into a thin line and turned to look down at Johnny. Her expression softened and she closed her eyes.

“Is this the only way to get the creature out?” Reed asked, resting one hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Strange answered, “I can’t risk the creature escaping.”

Peter loved Johnny to the stars and back, but he didn't think he wanted to invade Johnny’s mind and see the worst parts of him without his permission if he could help it. From the look on everyone else’s face, they were having the same thoughts.

“If it’s tha only way,” Ben grumbled, but he didn’t seem happy about it either.

Strange gestured for them to gather around Johnny’s head and lay a hand on Johnny’s person. Sue rested her palm over Johnny’s forehead, like she was checking his temperature. Peter cupped Johnny’s cheek, his thumb gently tracing an angular cheekbone. Reed gripped Johnny’s shoulder near his neck, like he was trying to comfort him. Ben placed his heavy stone hand on Johnny’s chest, close to his heart.

“Is everyone ready?” Strange asked, waiting for everyone to give their acknowledgement before he raised off the floor and began to wave his hands about intricately. “Brace yourselves.”

Peter steeled himself as Doctor Strange began incanting, the lights around them dimming while the glow around Johnny brightened. Johnny’s brow creased ever so slightly and he let out a short breath of discomfort. Peter wasn't able to do much more than flex his fingers on Johnny’s cheek before the breath was snatched from his lungs. Peter’s mouth opened in a silent scream as he fell into Johnny’s mind, a wave of agony crashing over him.

* * *

Johnny stared down at the broken picture frame at his feet. The frozen face of Mommy smiled up at him from the remains of the shattered frame. Johnny hadn’t meant to break it, he’d only wanted to see it. He hardly remembered Mommy, and he wanted to see her picture that was hung up in the hall, but he was too short to see. So he’d tried to carefully lift it off the hook, just barely tall enough to grip the bottom of the frame to bring it down. No sooner than he’d lifted it off the hook, it had tipped out of his hands and gone crashing too the floor, leaving Johnny in his current situation.

Johnny bit his lip and felt the tears sting his eyes. He was going to get in so much trouble, he thought as he bent to try and pick up the pieces of glass, avoiding the sharp edges. Maybe he could fix it?

A creak from down the hall froze Johnny in his place. The door to Dad’s room opened slowly, a tall, looming figure lurching into the hallway.

“What the hell is going on here? What the hell is all this noise?” Dad groused as he came into the hall. The light hit him and Johnny knew he’d been drinking from the big glass bottles Johnny wasn't allowed to touch.

Johnny stayed where he was, crouched over the broken picture frame, unable to think to do anything else. Dad stared down at him, the wheels in his brain turning as he realized what had happened, what Johnny had done.

“Jonathan,” Dad said sternly, and Johnny felt the tears welling up already.

“I’m sorry Dad,” Johnny whimpered, “I was just p-playing and—”

“What did I tell you,” Dad cut him off, “about horsing around inside?”

“I d-didn’t mean to,” Johnny sobbed, dropping the pieces of glass he’d picked up. “I j-just w-wanted to—”

“God damn it Johnny, look what you did!” Dad shouted, stomping over and towering over Johnny. “Mary’s _photo_! God damn it!”

“I’m sorry!” Johnny wailed. He reached out to grab Dad’s pant leg, trying to let him know how sorry he was, stop him from being mad. He hated it when Dad yelled.

The backhand was unexpected. It didn't hurt very much, but it sent Johnny stumbling backwards, tripping over his feet and landing on his bottom. His hand went out to catch himself and landed on a shard of glass, slicing into his palm. Johnny sat there for a moment, dumbfoundedly staring up at Dad, who looked just as stunned as he did. Blood welled up from the cut on his palm and dripped onto the photo of Mom. Tears spilled down Johnny’s cheeks and he began to wail.

Dad knelt down and pulled Johnny into his arms, holding him too tightly. “Shh, shh, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice shaking. “I didn't mean it, I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.”

Johnny clung to Dad, sobbing uncontrollably. Dad ran his shaking fingers through Johnny’s hair, shushing him and kissing the top of his head.

“It’s not your fault Johnny,” Dad said, his voice sounding tight. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

“I j-just w-wanted to s-see Mommy,” Johnny hiccuped, burying his face in Dad’s shirt. It smelled funny, like cough syrup.

“I know baby, I know,” Dad said, squeezing Johnny so tight he almost couldn't breathe. “Johnny? Don't tell Sue, okay? Don't tell your sister.”

Johnny frowned, knowing that he shouldn’t do that, but unable to understand why. Dad was asking him to do it though, so it must have been important that Sue not know. Slowly, Johnny nodded into Dad’s shirt. His palm throbbed where it was still bleeding.

Dad scooped him up and carried him down to the kitchen. He set Johnny down on the counter and got out his old medical kit, grim faced and silent. Johnny cried again as Dad pulled the shard of glass out of his hand and bandaged it up, a litany of apologies falling from his lips as he stitched the wound closed. Once it was cleaned and bandaged, Dad let Johnny down from the counter and got him an ice cream from the freezer, the kind he was only supposed to have after dinner. Dad went back upstairs and cleaned up the glass, carefully setting aside the photo of Mommy; the blood was only in one corner, and could probably be fixed.

Dad was cooking mac and cheese at the stove when Sue came home from her friend’s place later. Johnny was sitting at the kitchen island, sullenly colouring in a book, sad that his red crayon was almost gone, but not wanting to annoy Dad anymore today.

“You’re cooking dinner?” Sue asked, raising an eyebrow at Dad at the stove. Johnny instantly tensed.

“I’m your father, I can’t make dinner for my own kids?” Dad snapped, but it was half hearted.

Sue narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but thankfully didn’t try to argue. She stayed in the kitchen, keeping an eye on Dad and cleaning up as best she could. Sue frowned at the pile of dishes in the sink, but decided to leave it for after dinner. She gathered a few things from the kitchen island and noticed the bandage on Johnny’s hand.

“What happened to your hand?” Sue asked him, though she whirled to glare at Dad’s back.

Before Johnny could explain, make it so his sister wouldn't get mad and start yelling, Dad spoke up. “I broke a picture,” he said, “Johnny accidentally cut his hand on the glass. It’s my fault.”

Johnny snapped his mouth shut, something funny happening in his stomach. Sue clicked her tongue. “You need to stop drinking so much. Johnny could have gotten really hurt.”

“I know,” Dad said, voice small and sad. Johnny wished he knew how to fix it, make it so everyone was happy. He wanted everyone to stop being sad all the time.

Sue seemed surprised that Dad wasn't fighting back at her. Dad started to dish out the mac and cheese onto plates and gestured for them to sit. It was runny and incredibly mushy, and Johnny noticed a lot of it was stuck to the bottom of the pot. Sue made a huffing noise, but ate her serving while Johnny and Dad both picked listlessly at theirs.

Dad sighed, long and low, before standing up and leaving the kitchen, leaving behind his nearly full plate of mac and cheese. Sue watched him go, never saying a word as he picked up a two thirds empty square bottle and climbed the stairs.

“Johnny, finish your dinner please,” Sue said, picking up her own finished plate and heading for the sink to start washing.

Johnny stuffed a mushy bite into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow. His hand throbbed.

* * *

Johnny didn’t like Aunt Marygay’s house very much; there were always new borders coming and going as they pleased, and the tiny room in the back of the house he’d been stuffed in was hardly more than a closet. Sometimes Johnny felt like it was supposed to be a closet, a place for him to sit out of the way and be forgotten about. Aunt Marygay herself seemed to want to forget he was around at time at least, always berating him for being underfoot or getting into things he shouldn’t. She didn't like giving him pocket money for candy or cheap second hand comics, and she never bothered with the goings on of his life.

However, Johnny would have locked himself away in his little closet-room forever if that meant he’d never have to go to school ever again. While his aunt was perfectly fine leaving him to his business throughout the day, the bullies at school were a different story. They seemed to take a special kind of pleasure in tormenting him. For the most part, they kept their taunts verbal, making fun of his stutter and his penchant for crying like a sissy. Every once in a while though, their abuse would turn physical, pushing and shoving Johnny while they jeered.

Johnny had taken to leaving through the side entrances of his school in order to slip away from his bullies. It usually worked, and most days Johnny managed to get far enough away from the school grounds to avoid being seen by his tormentors. Today was unlucky though, as one of the boys must have seen him and alerted his friends. They caught up to Johnny on the other side of the hill behind the school, out of sight of any teachers that might still be milling around.

“Hey pretty boy!” one of the kids, Claude, called after Johnny. “Where do you think you're going?”

Johnny bit his lip, knowing it was useless to run. One of the boys, Carter, was on the track team and would catch up to him in a minute. He couldn’t defend himself either, as there were four of them and only one of him.

“C’mon g-guys, I j-just want t-to g-go home,” Johnny forced out as they came up to him. Immediately they surrounded him on all sides, making Johnny hunch his shoulders, try to be smaller.

“We just wanna talk though,” Brian said, mockingly genuine. He was the biggest kid in the fifth grade, and there was nothing he liked more than using his size to push other kids around.

Johnny swiveled his head, trying to keep them all in his sight. He shrugged his backpack higher on his shoulders like it might protect him. Claude noticed the motion and darted forward to rip the backpack from Johnny, causing him to stumble. Johnny tried to swipe the backpack back from Claude, but he just laughed in Johnny’s face and tossed it to Derek.

Derek was the leader of the other three, the one who’d instigated the bullying against Johnny. He was also the most vicious of the four of them, often the one who started anything physical with Johnny. He sneered at Johnny and clutched his backpack in his pasty white fingers.

“What the hell even _is_ this old thing?” Derek scoffed, turning over Johnny’s backpack. “It looks like something my _grandma_ would have taken to school.”

The other boys laughed and Johnny flushed. The backpack was indeed a hand-me-down, fished off of some shelf in Aunt Marygay’s attic. It had maybe been a colour of some kind at one point, but had by now faded to an ugly greyish beige. Even more humiliating, in certain spots where the colour wasn't as deteriorated, a sprawling floral pattern was visible on the canvas fabric. Johnny begged Sue for a new backpack, but they didn’t have the money for anything nice. Johnny would just have to deal with the old backpack for now.

Derek unzipped the ancient backpack and upended up, the contents spilling out over the ground. Johnny’s pencil box hit a rock and cracked open, pencils and bits of plastic scattering. Homework fluttered to the dirt, along with an old comic he’d managed the rescue from a discount bin at the bookstore.

“Hey! C-c’mon, st-stop it!” Johnny protested as Derek started to kick around his stuff, crinkling his homework under his shoes and breaking his pencils.

“St-st-stop it!” Carter mocked, shoving at Johnny. The other boys laughed and started a ring of pushing at Johnny.

Derek grinned at Johnny and reached down to pick up the comic book. It was old, discoloured with age, the pages thin and fragile, but Johnny loved it. The discount comics were cheap and one of the few things Johnny could regularly afford with his pocket change. Derek stared into Johnny’s eyes cruelly and started to rip the pages out, crumpling them and tossing them to the dirt.

“No!” Johnny cried, breaking free of the other three and jumping forward. His hands landed on Derek’s chest and he shoved with all his strength.

Derek went sprawling backwards, his arms flailing as he landed on his ass in the dirt. For a moment everyone was too stunned to do anything. Johnny just stared down at Derek, horrified by what he’d done. There was no way he _wasn’t_ going to get his ass kicked now.

Going red in the face, Derek sprang up and caught Johnny by the collar. Johnny braced himself for the punch, but still fell to the ground when it landed. He immediately covered his head with his hands as the kicks started to rain down.

The flurry of blows didn't last long, but by the time they let up Johnny was panting hard and shaking. In his vision he saw the discarded comic book and reached for it. Derek slammed his foot down on Johnny’s wrist, making him cry out.

“You wanna know what you are?” Derek hissed, leaning harder on Johnny’s wrist. “You’re a _crybaby_ . All you do is cry and whine and act like a dumb girl. You're nothing but a big stupid stuttering _sissy_.”

Derek leaned even harder on Johnny’s wrist, until he felt something on the inside give and Johnny howled in pain. Derek lifted his foot off Johnny’s wrist and Johnny clutched it to his chest, curling up and crying softly, hating himself for every tear. Thankfully Derek and his cronies had had their fill and left him there amid his ruined belongings. Johnny stayed curled up for a time, sniffling into the dirt. Eventually he managed to pick himself and his scattered things up, whimpering every time he tried to do anything with his wrist.

When Johnny got home, he went straight to his room and slammed the door shut, ignore his aunt yelling at him not to slam her doors. He threw himself down on his bed and cried himself to sleep.

By the time Johnny woke up again, it was dark and someone was calling him for dinner. Johnny sniffled one last time and changed out of his dirty clothes. He stopped at the bathroom to wash his face free of tear tracks and dirt before heading down to the kitchen. Sue was waiting for him, a tired smile on her face and two plates of dinner ready.

“There you are, I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” she said, laying a plate out for him. “How was school?”

“Fine,” Johnny answered, climbing onto the chair. He and his sister always ate in the kitchen, as the dining room was reserved for the borders.

“That’s good, how are your classes?” Sue asked, sitting down across from him with her own plate.

“Fine,” Johnny said again. He reached for his fork and hissed as his wrist throbbed.

“Johnny? You okay?” Sue asked, furrowing her brows.

“It’s nothing,” Johnny said quickly, trying to hide his wrist from her.

Sue was smarter than that though, and reached over to tug his arm so she could see it. Johnny whimpered in pain as she pushed up his sleeve to gasp at the sight of his wrist. It had swollen up to twice it’s usual size and was turning purple.

“What happened?” Sue demanded, gently probing Johnny’s wrist, horror in her eyes.

“I-I fell,” Johnny lied.

“Fell?” Sue questioned. “From where? You weren’t climbing that old tree in the yard were you?”

Johnny said nothing and ducked his head, hoping his silence would convince her. Sue groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Johnny! That thing is completely dead! You’re lucky it didn't snap in half and fall on you.”

“I’m sorry Sue,” Johnny whimpered, starting to cry again.

Sue sighed, her shoulders hanging. “No, it’s alright, I’m not mad at you,” she said. She started to pick up their dinners and wrap them up to stick them in the fridge. She pulled out the ice tray and filled a plastic bag with some cubes and wrapped it in a hand towel. She handed it to Johnny and started putting together her purse.

“Come on,” she said, the words coming out like a resigned sigh, “the free clinic is closed, but we’d have to go to the hospital anyway for an X-ray.”

Johnny sniffled and held the cold pack to his wrist, following his sister while she negotiated with Aunt Marygay about taking the car to the hospital. In his head, Johnny could still hear Derek’s laughter above him.

* * *

“Hey pretty boy!”

Johnny groaned and resisted the urge to slam his head in his own locker to just get it over with. It hadn’t exactly been surprising that Johnny would be going to the same middle school as Derek and the rest of his buddies, but he’d hoped they’d at least have moved on to a different target by the time they got there. No such luck.

“What do you want Derek?” Johnny asked, carefully enunciating each word. The speech therapy videos on Youtube had been really helpful, but Johnny still had to concentrate.

Derek put up his hands like he was surrendering, but Johnny knew the look in his eye. “Whoa there, can’t a guy say hi?” he asked, grinning.

“Hi,” Johnny said, closing his locker and making sure to lock it. No risk of getting his things messed with. He waited for Derek to go on. Carter and Brian sidled up next to him (Claude had moved away to live with his dad in Queens).

“Hi~” Carter and Brian sang, before nudging each other and snickering.

Johnny only barely resisted rolling his eyes. “Do you need something? I don't have any money for the cafeteria,” he said.

“So hostile,” Derek said. He walked up to Johnny and slung an arm around his shoulder, like they were pals. “I just wanted to give you something.”

“If it’s a swirly, I’ll pass thanks,” Johnny said, not that it would do anything to stop them, but at least Johnny wouldn’t be cowering.

“Do you really think so little of us?” Derek said, “I’m hurt Johnny-boy, really hurt.”

“My condolences,” Johnny said, trying to wiggle away. Derek gripped his shoulder tightly to keep him from leaving.

“We thought you might be thirsty buddy,” Derek said, and Carter came forward to hold out a bottle of juice to Johnny. “Go ahead and take a drink.”

The juice was bright red, Johnny noted, the colour hiding whatever they’d put in it. With the way Derek was gripping his shoulder, Johnny knew better than to think he could just refuse it and they would let him go. He had to be creative about this.

With a show of reluctance, Johnny reached out to take the drink, Carter and Brian grinning like the devils they were. Just as Johnny was taking the bottle, his hand ‘slipped’ on it and the bottle went crashing to the floor, red juice splattering everywhere, including on Derek, Brian, and Carter (Johnny got hit too, but his clothes were already stained and shitty).

“Fuck!” Derek swore as a large splotch of red stained his pant leg. He looked up and glared at Johnny, who braced himself.

“Mr. Martindale!” called their science teacher called from across the hall, “come along with me please. I think we need to have another chat about your language.”

“Yes Ms. Hollandier,” Derek grumbled, shuffling off.

Johnny hid his smile and quickly darted off. Carter and Brian could be mean, but they were typically pretty toothless without their leader. He knew it wouldn't be the end of things by a longshot, but for now he had a reprieve.

It was lunch when Derek found him again. Johnny usually ate his lunch in the stairwell, as he had no friends to sit with in the cafeteria. Sue had tried making sandwiches again, and Johnny was grimacing through the ordeal when Derek came down the steps, glaring at Johnny.

Johnny sighed and quickly packed away his lunch. He stood up and waited for Derek to do something. Derek didn't say anything or move, just stood there, glaring at Johnny like he’d insulted his mother.

“What?” Johnny snapped, eager for it to be just over with already.

Derek slowly came down the steps until he was on the same landing as Johnny. He was about Johnny’s height, with dark, slightly greasy hair, and green eyes. He could have been handsome if he wasn't such a jerk. Derek continued staring at Johnny, like he was studying him.

Suddenly Derek grabbed Johnny by his shirt and pinned him to the wall. Johnny braced himself for a fist in the mouth, but instead Derek surged forward and kissed him.

Johnny made a noise of surprise and Derek shoved his tongue into his mouth. He tasted like Doritos and the cigarettes he bummed from the high schoolers across the street. Johnny tried to shove him off, but he couldn't get the leverage, Derek was bigger and easily overpowered him. He pressed harder into Johnny, shoving his knee between Johnny’s thighs and pushing him into the wall, almost crushing Johnny. Derek bit Johnny’s lip, hard enough that Johnny yelped and could taste blood.

Just as Johnny was considering biting back, to do something to get Derek off of him, the door to the stairwell banged open. Derek jumped backwards, but not before Carter and Brian had seen what they were doing.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Brain asked, looking incredibly confused.

“It was him!” Derek shouted, too fast and too loud. “He kissed me! _He’s_ the fag!”

Johnny was too stunned to say anything. Derek turned to him, wild fear in his eyes, and punched him in the stomach. The other two quickly joined in, beating Johnny in defense of their friend. Someone landed a punch to Johnny’s mouth, splitting his lip where Derek had bitten it.

“What is going on here!?” someone called over the chaos. The boys stopped and pulled back from Johnny, who slumped back against the wall and slid down it, too dazed to stand.

Principal Jordan stood on the next landing up, next to the door, hands on his hips and glaring down at them. Johnny might have rejoiced for the interruption of his beating if he didn’t know what was about to happen next.

“Dad, he started it,” Carter whined.

“Is that so?” Principal Jordan asked, stomping heavily down the stairs. He regarded Johnny’s crumpled form with thinly veiled disdain.

“He was _kissing_ on Derek!” Brain said. “We came to defend him.”

Principal Jordan turned to Derek and raised a thin eyebrow. “Is that true?”

Derek glanced down at Johnny, who was starting to get his feet under him again. Their eyes locked, and unconsciously Johnny’s tongue went to his split lip, tasting the blood oozing there. Derek swallowed and turned back to Principal Jordan.

“Y-yeah,” Derek said, “that’s right.”

Principal Jordan gave a huff, his giant bald spot shining under the fluorescent bulbs of the stairwell. He turned to Johnny and narrowed his beady eyes. “Mr. Storm, report to the nurse’s office, then to my office. We need to have a talk about starting fights at school.”

Johnny slowly peeled himself off the wall and picked up what remained of his lunch. He started to limp away towards the door, intending to head straight for the nurse’s office. Mrs. Brostrovsky was always nice to him, and gave him toffee candies when he came to see her.

As Johnny passed Derek as he made for the stairs. Johnny caught his eyes for just a second, but Derek looked away quickly, backing away from Johnny like he was radioactive. Johnny passed him and left the stairwell, limping down the hall.

“And don’t think we aren’t going to call your sister about this Mr. Storm!” Principal Jordan called after him.

Johnny licked his split lip again. His first kiss. What an ordeal.

* * *

Johnny frowned down at his calculations. “Are you sure that’s right?” he asked.

Brittney snapped her gum. “Check the back of the book if you aren’t sure,” she said in a bored tone.

Johnny flipped to the back of the book and cursed. “It’s _still_ wrong,” he said. “How is it still wrong?”

“Beats me,” Brittney said.

Johnny pouted at her. “ _You’re_ supposed to be the tutor,” he said.

With a long sigh and an eye roll, Brittney heaved herself forward and leaned over Johnny’s work to check it. From this angle, Johnny could see the curve of her breast under her shirt, the diving neckline showing off the hint of her bra.

Johnny had tried to tell Sue that he didn't need a tutor, that it was a waste of money, but his grades had been sliding steadily throughout high school and his teachers were beginning to talk about remedial classes through the summer. Sue had finally hired Brittney, a girl a few years ahead of Johnny who came highly recommended by his classmates and cheap. Personally, Johnny wasn't seeing the ‘highly recommended’ part of her work just yet.

Brittney tapped her finger against his equation. “Watch your variables,” she said, then leaned back in her chair and went back to checking her phone.

Johnny sighed and bent over the equation again, trying to decipher what she meant. So far she’d been as helpful as the teachers in getting Johnny to understand the material. There was just something that wasn't _clicking_ for Johnny, the numbered skittering over the page like irate mice, evading Johnny’s grasp. He wanted to understand, but he just couldn’t.

After another few minutes of fighting with the numbers, Johnny threw down his pencil with a groan. “I still don’t get it. Explain it again.”

Brittney groaned. “It’s all down there in the textbook,” she said.

 _If I could understand it from the textbook, my sister wouldn't be paying you by the hour_ , Johnny thought back, but refrained from saying. “Could you maybe do a few example problems? So I can see how it works?”

“Ugh, why don’t we take a break instead?” Brittney suggested. She reached over Johnny, her breast pressing against his shoulder, and flipped his textbook closed. Instead of leaning back again, Brittney began to trail her fingers along Johnny’s collarbone.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asked, willing himself not to tremble.

Brittney abandoned his collarbone and touched his cheek, turning him to face her. “You know, you're really pretty,” she said. “I’m kinda jealous.”

Johnny swallowed, saying nothing and looking into her face. He could just barely see a hint of freckles under her foundation and there was a small glob of lip gloss at the corner of her mouth. She leaned over and kissed him, and Johnny tasted artificial strawberries.

“Come on,” she said breathily, like she was trying to imitate the women in movies, but it came out like she was just out of breath. “Let’s have some fun.”

Brittney pulled him up from his chair and towards the bed. “We haven’t finished with the w-worksheet,” Johnny protested.

“We can do that later,” Brittney said, directing him to sit on the bed. She climbed onto his lap and smiled. Some of her lip gloss got on her teeth. “Let’s have some fun first.”

When it was over, Johnny wasn't sure what to feel. It had _felt_ good, but something sour wormed its way through Johnny’s guts, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Brittney got off the bed and started to get dressed.

“I have to get going,” she said, snapping her bra back on with a practiced movement.

“We st-still have to finish w-worksheet,” Johnny said, sitting up on the bed. He tugged the sheet up to cover him.

“My time’s up,” Brittney explained. She grabbed her purse and quickly reapplied her lip gloss. Smacking her lips, she turned and smiled at Johnny. “I’ll see you for our next session.”

With a final toss of her bleached hair, she left the room, leaving Johnny alone with his dirty bed sheets. Johnny sighed and flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

After Johnny had managed to collect himself, he decided to tell Sue. This was the kind of thing she should know, wasn't it? He was certain Sue wouldn't want to pay for Johnny to fool around instead of actually getting his homework done. Johnny found her in the parlour, carefully putting the last touches on her makeup.

“Hey little brother,” Sue called, smiling brightly. “How was the study session?”

“Fine,” Johnny answered automatically. He shuffled his feet on the carpet. “Actually Sue, there’s something—”

“Susan?” a voice called, it’s owner appearing in the doorway a second later. “Are you ready? Your aunt said I could come up.”

Reed Richards was the latest border at Aunt Marygay’s, and Johnny had already decided he liked him. He wasn't the first man to have taken interest in Sue, but he was the first to also be nice to Johnny instead of ignoring him. He was nice and patient, and he had such wonderful stories about the universe (theories, he’d correct Johnny with a smile). He also looked at Sue like she was made of starlight, like the whole of the cosmos couldn’t compare to her.

One day Johnny wanted someone to look at him like that.

“Reed,” Sue said, smiling brightly. “I’ll be with you in just a sec.” She turned back to Johnny. “What were you saying?”

Johnny looked up at his sister. She was really dressed up tonight, and had even gone and gotten an new dress for the occasion. Johnny knew that she really liked Reed. If he told her, she would have to stay with him and cancel her date. Reed would understand of course, but Sue had really been looking forward to this. Johnny didn’t want to ruin this for her.

“It’s nothing,” Johnny said, putting on a smile. “Have fun on your date.”

Sue smiled and ruffled his hair, for which he swatted at her. “Alright. Don't stay up late, okay?” she instructed before taking Reed’s arm. Johnny noticed him flush slightly.

“I won’t keep her out too late, I promise,” Reed said to Johnny, seeming actually genuine about it.

Johnny waved them goodbye as they walked off to Reed’s car, Reed already excitedly explaining another of his theories to her. That semester Johnny flunked every class and had to take remedial classes throughout summer.

* * *

Johnny was sixteen and on top of the world. The newly minted Fantastic Four were already making a splash in the headlines that seemed like they were saturated with new heros and hero groups. People in the street wanted Johnny’s autograph, and he couldn't go outside without someone noticing him. He could _fly_ and he got to be a _hero_ . Everything was _fantastic_.

They were currently at a party in honor of the Fantastic Four saving the city for the _third_ time in as many months. Johnny was wearing a suit that probably cost more than all the money Johnny had ever seen in his life and he looked and felt amazing. People lined up to tell him how handsome he was, how cool his powers were, and how great it was that he and his family were saving the universe on the regular.

Johnny sipped on his glass of champagne (“Only _one_ glass,” Sue had warned him sternly), walking around the room looking for more people to talk to. A lot of people wanted to talk to him about his powers and who he was wearing, but he had gotten bored of answering the same questions over and over. Now he was trying to find Reed or Sue, someone he could have an actual conversation with.

Sue was entertaining a couple of smaller politicians in one corner of the room, beautiful and graceful in her glittering blue dress (she, Johnny, Reed and Ben were all wearing blue, calling back to their uniforms). Johnny walked over to her and waited patiently for there to be a gap in the conversation that he could slip through. When it didn’t seem apparent that he would get one, he gently tapped her elbow.

“Hey Sue, can I—” he started.

“In a minute Johnny,” Sue said before he could finish.

Johnny grumbled but waited for her to finish with her new friends. After nearly ten minutes with no sign of her taking a break from her conversation, Johnny gave up and went to find Reed or Ben. They’d at least pay attention to him.

Johnny found Reed in the midst of a gaggle of scientists, and was regaling them with explanations of his many creations. Johnny didn’t always understand the science behind Reed’s more cerebral experiments, but he did like to listen in on the mechanics of his inventions. Johnny loved to build things.

For several minutes, Johnny contented himself with just listening to Reed explain his machines. He got extremely excited about his work, it was infectious.

“Dr. Richards!” one of the scientists called, pushing his thick glasses up his nose. “Can you tell us more about your flying vehicle?”

“The Fantasticar? Of course,” Reed said. Johnny lit up with excitement; this was something he could actually engage with. After all, he’d helped build the Fantasticar.

Just as Reed was about to launch into his impromptu lecture, Sue materialized at his side. “Reed? Can I borrow you for a moment?” she asked, curling her arm around his. She smiled at the rest of them. “I just need him for a minute.”

“Of course, something wrong?” Reed asked, already letting himself be led away. Johnny started to follow.

“No no, nothing like that,” Sue said, and Johnny didn't catch the rest of it. If it wasn't Fantastic Four business, he probably didn’t need the details.

Johnny turned back to the group of scientists Reed had been talking to, who were already comparing notes with one another. A few of them were probably going to attempt to recreate some of Reed’s ideas, most assuredly to no avail.

They began to disperse and Johnny made a decision. “If you want to know about the Fantasticar, I can tell you about it.”

A few looked up, clearly interested. “Did you see the schematics?” one of them asked.

Johnny smiled. “Sure, I helped build it,” he said with pride.

There was a short pause before a wave of laughter rippled through the group. Johnny was confused until one of them, a woman who probably meant well, piped up. “Sure sweetie, I bet you were a great lab assistant.”

Humiliation burned through Johnny, quite literally as the ends of his hair smoldered. With a huff, he turned and stomped off, away from the cluster of still tittering nerds. Who needed their approval anyway?

“At least he’s got his looks,” Johnny heard one of them say, sending another wave of laughter through them. Johnny shut his eyes and tried to block out the sound.

* * *

“Can you please sit up straight?” Dorrie huffed, tossing her dark hair back over her shoulder.

“Who are you, my sister?” Johnny grumbled, but he sat up anyway. He reached out to stir his mostly-melted milkshake around. He didn’t really feel cold the way he did before the crash, but it still tasted good.

Dorrie rolled her eyes, but luckily didn't try to start a fight. Johnny was too tired to defend himself after an expedition into space went awry and he’d had to absorb and release a lot of heat. It was a lot more exhausting than he’d thought it would be.

“Johnny? Johnny!” Dorrie was saying, starting to get loud. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Oh, sorry Dorrie,” Johnny said, snapping out of his daze. “I’m really tired.”

“Unbelievable,” Dorrie said, crossing her arms and starting to pout. “It’s bad enough we had to postpone our date _twice_ for your sister’s boyfriend’s weird space adventures, but now you won’t even pay attention to me.”

“I said I wasn’t feeling well,” Johnny pointed out. “I suggested we stay in and watch a movie.”

“What, so you could fall asleep halfway through it _again_?” Dorrie groused.

Johnny sighed, too tired to keep going on. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, putting a smile on his face. “I know I’m super tired and not much fun, but I just wanted to see you so bad.”

Dorrie wasn't moved. “Can you at least try to _pretend_ like you’re having a good time? If someone from schools sees us, they’re going to talk.”

Johnny groaned and slumped in his seat. “Sure, whatever you want,” he sighed.

* * *

As the light faded from Franklin Storm’s eyes, Johnny’s mind raced. For so long he’d thought that his father was already dead, that he’d died when Johnny was a child. Only weeks ago he’d learned the truth, that Franklin was alive and sitting in a prison cell for murder. Sue had told him that their father was dead, something he’d told her to tell Johnny. For nearly ten years Johnny had believed her, only to find out she’d lied to him. Now he was watching his father die, feeling the years he’d missed slip through his fingers like water.

When Sue had first told him that their father had died, Johnny had guiltily felt a little relieved. Franklin hung around the house like a ghost, smelling of alcohol and shouting whenever things went wrong. Johnny had quickly learned to keep quiet and stay out of the man’s way. Unlike Sue, he didn't remember his father as ever being a warm and loving person, he hadn’t been old enough to remember. In his mind his father was a broken man. Johnny had almost been glad to be rid of him.

Of course his feelings had softened over the years, and as a teen he’d come to miss his father dearly. Johnny had grown to understand that the man he remembered his father as wasn’t how he’d always been. When he thought about his father, he thought about all the things he would never got to do with him.

Then his father had turned up _alive_ , having spent years in a prison cell. He’d told Sue to tell Johnny that he was dead, _to make it easier_ he said. Johnny had mixed feelings on the whole thing, but he’d known he’d wanted to reconnect with Franklin, have a father in his life again.

He’d been scared to see him at first. What if he was just as Johnny remembered, a hopeless, broken man? What if he _wasn’t_? Johnny had waited to go to his prison cell until his sister had recovered enough to go with him. If she was there, Johnny would be alright.

But now Franklin was dead. For real this time.

Johnny heard Sue crying. In the background people were talking, but all Johnny could hear was his sister crying. She’d known their father was alive all this time, but had kept herself away as per his request. She’d been just as excited to see him again as he had. They’d talked about it for hours while she recovered in the hospital, all the things they were going to tell Dad about, all of their amazing adventures and everything he’d missed growing up.

“It’s going to be so amazing to have him back Johnny,” Sue said, eyes full of joyful tears. “It’s going to be exactly like it used to be.”

Johnny smiled brightly. “I sure hope so!” he said, _I sure hope it’s just how_ **_you_ ** _remember it_.

Reed was talking to the police and Ben was standing around awkwardly, unsure of himself. Johnny wanted to cry, he wanted to scream. He didn't know what he wanted. Sue was still sobbing over their father’s body. Franklin had used his last words to tell them both how much he’d loved them, and it felt like a slap in the face. Ten years of thinking his father was gone, that he’d never get to see him again, and now it was true. One brief flash of hope only to have it snatched away again.

A large stoney hand fell on Johnny’s shoulder and he looked up into Ben’s face. It was hard to read his expression, but his eyes were full of sadness.

“We gotta let tha police handle it kiddo,” Ben said, starting to tug him away.

Johnny looked back to his father laid out. Reed bent to gather Sue into his arms. She was still sobbing.

* * *

 

Johnny stared up at the ceiling, trying to untangle the mess his mind had become. Next to him Alicia slept peacefully, hopefully unaware of what Johnny was thinking. Of course he loved her, he loved her so much; but lying next to her felt like a betrayal. Johnny could feel the guilt curling in his stomach every time he caught Ben’s eye, even though they were all _fine_ with this. Johnny felt a deep shame every time he laid in bed next to Alicia, even though he loved her, even though she was his _wife_. There was something wrong with this, but Johnny just couldn’t figure it out for the life of him.

“Darling?” Alicia called out in the darkness. So much for her being peaceful. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Johnny said, automatically curling towards her. “Just have a lot on my mind.”

“That’s never a good thing,” Alicia said, sitting up a little. “Would you like to tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can figure it out for you.”

Johnny thought about telling her, unloading everything and sharing his misgivings. Wasn’t that what married couples were supposed to do, share everything equally? Yet Johnny didn’t _want_ to tell her. After all, if he told Alicia about how he felt, like there was something wrong with their marriage, wouldn't that just upset her? Alicia seemed perfectly happy, wouldn’t it be wrong to sour that?

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Johnny said. “I’m just being silly.”

Alicia laughed. “Well, you should be used to that by now,” she said. She trailed her hand up his chest. “Let me help take your mind off things?” she breathed, leaning in to lay a soft kiss to his throat.

Johnny shivered at her touch, unsure if it was from desire or something else slithering through him. “Maybe that’s not a good idea,” he said.

Alicia hummed and moved so she could roll them over and straddle his hips. “You always think too much Johnny,” she said. “Let me take care of you.”

Johnny sighed into her mouth as she leaned down to kiss him, deciding to let her take the wheels of things and just be led along for the ride.

* * *

Johnny couldn't believe it. He just _couldn’t_ . Alicia had been a Skrull this whole time? She’d been a Skrull and none of them had known? The woman he’d fallen in love with, the woman he’d _married_ was a shape-shifting alien sent to destroy his family. Now the real Alicia was back and wanted nothing to do with him and his wife (Lyja, her name was Lyja) was dead.

Johnny couldn't get his head to stop spinning. He felt sick, he felt like he was going to pass out. Why did the people he love keep leaving him? Dorrie, Crystal, Frankie, now Alicia? Was Johnny doomed to being alone?

“Johnny?” someone called, a hand laying on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Johnny looked up to see his sister standing over him, looking down at him with concern. When Johnny didn’t answer her right away, her frown deepened. “Johnny, what’s wrong?”

 _My wife turned out to be a Skrull who was sent to kill us but married me instead and then died in my arms_. “I’m alright Sue,” Johnny answered automatically, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Sue didn't look convinced. “Do you want to talk about it?” she offered.

 _Yes_. “No, it’s alright,” Johnny said, shakily getting to his feet. “I’m sure Alicia needs your help more. She’s moving out, right?”

Alicia, poor Alicia. She’d had her whole life stolen by Lyja. She’d been held prisoner in space for months while someone walked around with her face, wearing her life like a costume. As much as Johnny knew it wasn’t her that he’d loved, that he’d married, a part of him still broke for her.

“Reed and Ben are helping her,” Sue said, “I can talk.”

For a second, Johnny almost did it, almost broke down and cried on his sister. He felt empty, he felt lost, he felt _used_ . Every time he’d been with Alicia, touched her, kissed her, held her in his arms, she’d been Lyja, she’d been _lying_. Lyja had said she’d fallen in love with him for real, but was that even true? Even if it was, it didn’t change the fact that Johnny had thought he’d loved Alicia. His head was such a mess and he didn't know what to do with himself.

“I’m fine,” Johnny said, “Really, I’ll be okay.”

Sue frowned. “If you’re sure,” she said, sounding uncertain.

“I’m sure,” Johnny said, standing up and taking a few steps away, knowing if he hugged her now he would break down. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Alright,” Sue said, looking like she might follow him anyway.

Johnny gave her a smile and a wave before taking off down the hall, hoping she didn't follow. He remembered her telling him back when this all started to slow down, to _think_ about what he was doing. Alicia had been Ben’s girlfriend for years, she’d said, and Johnny was too young to get married. He hadn’t listened to her, and now it was all falling apart. Johnny couldn't think straight. He didn’t want to think at all.

Instead of heading out for a walk, Johnny found himself in his suite, the one he’d been sharing with his wife, with Alicia (with _Lyja_ ). Everything felt strange, the dimensions wrong; Johnny felt like he was off-balance. He clutched his head. He just wanted it all to _stop_.

Johnny walked to his bathroom and went for his medicine cabinet. Months ago Johnny had taken a hard hit and broken his ribs, and the pain had been unbearable. Reed had given him some hard pain medication take, and Johnny hadn’t ended up needing the last couple of pills in the bottle. Johnny dumped them out onto his hand and swallowed them, not bothering to count them. After a second he took out the bottle of sleeping pills he took when the nightmares got to be too much and shook out a handful, gulping them down as well. He wanted to sleep. He wanted it to stop hurting.

Already feeling off-kilter, Johnny made his way to the bed. Just hours ago he’d lain here with Alicia, none the wiser to the fact that she wasn’t who he thought she was. Johnny laid down and curled up, waiting to fall into the blackness.

It didn't claim his quickly, and even when it did it was fitful. Johnny felt like he was drifting in a river, trying to swim but being buffeted on all sides. Sometimes he would be pulled under and it would seem calm, but then he would surface and he felt panicky, trying to figure out which way was up and wondering if he shouldn’t just swim down. His body shivered and convulsed, feeling hot and cold all at once. He felt numb all over but the pain was so intense he couldn't even scream. Johnny thrashed and moaned, little bitten-off noises that came out like sobs.

At some point, the water calmed enough that Johnny could pick out voices in the hall. He tried to call out to them, but all he could manage was a low moan.

“I should talk to him,” Sue’s voice floated over above the waves.

 _Sue, help me_ , Johnny thought, trying to get up, to lift his hand, do something to bring her to his side. He couldn’t take it, he wanted it all to go away, he wanted his bag sister to make it all okay again.

“He wants to be left alone Sue,” Reed said, and Johnny could picture them together, him holding her waist while she dithered on whether or not to knock on Johnny’s door. “He’ll come out to talk to us when he’s ready.”

 _Help me, please help me_ , Johnny tried to say, but all he got out was more sobs. He was dying, slipping into the black and he was scared. He didn't want to be scared, he didn’t think it was going to be this scary.

“I guess,” Sue said, though she sounded hesitant. “He sounds so upset.”

“He’ll be alright,” Reed assured her. “Johnny’s young, but he’s strong. When he’s ready to talk to us, we’ll help him.”

Their voices began to fade and Johnny began to panic. _Don’t leave me! Help me! Don't leave!_ he wanted to shout, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. A wave of water crashed over his head and dragged him under again.

It was hours later when Johnny finally woke up again. Pale light was fighting weakly through the blinds, laying in exhausted stripes across the room. The air smelled stale and feverish, and Johnny had to take a moment to catch his breath, like there wasn’t enough oxygen. His whole body felt like it was made out of jelly, and barely supported him as he shambled towards the bathroom. Johnny was glad he didn't sweat anymore, as he was already feeling gross inside his uniform that he’d forgotten to take off before crawling into bed last night.

Johnny had forgotten to put everything away last night; the medicine cabinet was still open and the bottles of pills were still laid out on the counter. The pain medicine bottle was empty, and there was significantly less in the bottle of sleeping pills. Had Johnny taken that much? He’d been so out of it he hadn’t even realized.

Reed had once told Johnny that he metabolized foreign substances at an accelerated rate, literally burning through things like medication, alcohol, poisons, anything that could affect him on a chemical level. It made it hard to medicate him properly, but it had also saved his life numerous times. If Johnny had been a normal human, the amount of pills he’d taken the previous night most certainly would have killed him.

Taking a deep breath, Johnny put the cap back on the bottle and stowed it in the cabinet.

* * *

The egg was warm to the touch. Johnny felt nearly everyone and everything as heat, no two people exactly alike, and the egg was warm. It seemed to hum under his palm, not quite like a heartbeat, but similar enough that Johnny could imagine it. Inside the smooth shell was Johnny’s child, sleeping away until it was ready to emerge.

Johnny had so many questions. How would the baby get out of the egg? Would it be more human or more Skrull? A fifty-fifty split? Would the baby be able to shape shift? Would it inherit Johnny’s fire powers? Would it maybe have an entirely different set of powers? Would the baby have his eyes? Was it a boy? A girl? Was the baby even _healthy_?

This last question made Johnny somewhat nervous; he knew the hybridization could be dangerous and lead to health risks for the babies, and this was between different _Earth_ species, not even mentioning humans and aliens. Johnny wished he could know more, but Lyja assured him that everything was fine. Reed had offered to try and perfect some different scanning methods to help monitor the baby, but anything he could cook up wouldn't be safe enough to test on the baby before it hatched.

“I suppose you’re just as confused as I am,” Johnny said softly. He didn’t know if the baby could hear him through the shell, but babies could hear through the womb, so it couldn't have been that different.

The egg, for it’s part, did nothing, gave no indication that it was alive other than the thrumming heat that Johnny could feel. Johnny couldn’t help a small smile. “You know, I was a little weirded out at first, you being an egg,” he said, “but don't think that doesn’t mean I won’t love you.”

Johnny already loved it, he supposed. Egg or not, it was his baby, and he was going to be a father. The thought made him more than a little giddy.

“I can’t wait to hold you,” Johnny said softly, stroking his thumb across the shell. “I can’t promise I’m going to be perfect, but I promise to do my best.”

Johnny thought of what his life would be like once the baby hatched. He still didn't know much about Skrull biology (Lyja was somewhat tight-lipped about it all), but a child was a child, and children needed love and attention, something Johnny would give it in spades. He was considering leaving the team, but he could never leave behind his family. The baby would grow up surrounded by a big loving family, everything Johnny hadn’t had when he was growing up.

“Jonathan?” Lyja called, coming through the doorway. “What are you doing in here?” She noticed him touching the egg and frowned. “You shouldn’t leave the incubator open like that.”

“I’m keeping it warm,” Johnny said, though he took his hand away and closed the glass top of the incubator. “I’m sorry.”

Lyja frowned but said nothing else on the matter. She came to stand by Johnny’s side, though she didn't reach for him just yet. Johnny wasn't sure if he should reach out to her.

“You didn’t come to bed,” Lyja said after a few moments of silence, her tone accusatory.

“Sorry,” Johnny said, “I wasn’t tired.”

Lyja’s frown deepened. “And this is an excuse to neglect me?”

“Of course not, I’m sorry,” Johnny said, finally reaching for her. “I guess I’m just a little worked up about everything. You have to admit that this is a little strange,” he said with a tired laugh.

Lyja’s eyes welled up with tears. “How could you say that to me? After everything I’ve been through? After how terrible you’ve been to me?”

“No, Lyja, please don't cry,” Johnny begged, trying to pull her close. She remained stiff in his arms. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I was only trying to make a joke. Please don't cry. I’m sorry.”

Lyja continued to cry for a few minutes, Johnny murmuring assurances to her, trying to comfort her. Eventually she relaxed into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. He curled his arms tightly around her, stroking her back.

“Come to bed Johnny,” Lyja suggested, her fingers drumming against his collarbone.

“I will,” Johnny promised.

“Johnny,” Lyja hummed, stretching to kiss his neck, “come to bed with me.”

Johnny’s hands twitched. “Is that safe? For you I mean,” he asked. “You just gave birth a few weeks ago.”

Lyja huffed. “You don't have to worry about that, Skrull biology is much different than human biology.”

“You keep saying that, but you never explain,” Johnny complained. He could see the angry flush of green across Lyja’s face. “I’m sorry, I know, I’m just… I’m not really in the mood for that right now.”

Lyja’s anger melted away. “I can fix that for you my love, not to worry,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

Johnny cupped her hand in his, trying to feel the tug between them, trying to find the desire he had for her. “I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry.”

The anger returned and Lyja ripped herself from him. “Fine then,” she hissed, “see if I care. If you don’t want to return to our bed, then you can sleep _here_ for all it matters to me.” Tears began to fall down her cheeks again. “I don’t know why I expected you to be any different.”

Lyja turned on her heel and stomped out of the lab, leaving Johnny alone with the egg. Johnny winced as he heard a door slam. With an exhausted sigh, he turned back to the egg.

“It won’t be like this forever,” Johnny promised. “When you’re here, it will all get better. You’ll see, everything will work out.”

* * *

This was probably one of the stupidest things he’d ever done, Johnny reasoned, and he’d done a _lot_ of stupid things. A large part of Johnny told him to forget it, to find something else to occupy his time.

An even larger part of him pointed out how stupidly _attractive_ Daken was.

Daken was also stupidly dangerous, Johnny tried to reason with himself. Daken was untrustworthy, violent, and his pheromone powers called into question everyone’s emotions when they were around him. Yet Johnny found himself drawn to the other man, seeking out his attentions. The danger he posed seemed to make him that much _more_ exciting. Johnny wanted to know what made him tick.

Daken at least made no secret of his attraction to men, and the long appreciative looks he gave Johnny (when he knew Johnny was looking) gave Johnny the idea that he was at least curious about Johnny.

But Daken _was_ still dangerous, and Johnny had been burned so many times before. He didn’t know if he could survive another heartbreak, and there was no way anything with Daken involved would end well for him.

 _Nothing ventured, nothing gained_ , Johnny thought to himself, wandering through the darkened halls of Baxter. He’d gone out to a party, hoping to find someone distracting enough to put his mind off of Daken, but no such luck. One man had come close, but his soft brown hair and lithe body had reminded Johnny of another man he knew he’d never have and he couldn’t go through with it.

Johnny wasn’t actually expecting to find Daken, the man kept strange hours and didn’t often spend the night. Usually it was Daken finding Johnny to flirt with him, all the while being somewhat infuriating. Johnny didn't want to be charmed, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

To Johnny’s surprise, Daken was in the common room, frowning over his phone. He looked up when Johnny came in and grinned, sharp and wolfish.

“Busy night?” Daken asked, inhaling. He could probably smell the sweat and hormones on Johnny from the club.

“Not as busy as I would have liked,” Johnny said, canting his hip ever so slightly. Just flirty enough that someone interested would see, but someone uninterested wouldn’t notice.

Daken noticed. “That’s a pity,” he said. “You should have come to me. I would have shown you a good time.”

Johnny glanced out the window. The moon was high in the sky and the city sparkled in the dark. “Night’s not over yet,” he said.

Daken’s grinned was downright _ravenous_ as his eyes swept over Johnny, dressed in jeans that were nearly painted on and shirt that might as well have not existed. When he stood and sauntered over, Johnny was reminded of a big cat on the hunt. Johnny felt trapped in the best way possible. The cool hand on his hip made Johnny jump slightly, the fingers grazing against the skin they found there. Daken was still grinned as he leaned in close.

Suddenly Daken stopped, pulling back. “Are you drunk?” he asked, nostrils flaring as he smelled the alcohol on Johnny’s breath.

“No,” Johnny pouted. “What does it matter anyway?” he asked, belying his earlier answer.

Daken watched him for a moment, dark eyes assessing. Johnny shifted uncomfortably, wishing Daken would stop and just go back to looking like he wanted to eat him. Anything was better than this.

Eventually Daken began to pull away from Johnny. “Maybe we should revisit this when you’ve sobered up,” he suggested.

Johnny reached out and snagged the front of Daken’s shirt. “Wait, hold on,” Johnny said, trying not to feel the sting of rejection. He concentrated and heated his body quickly, feeling a slight headrush as the alcohol boiled out of his system. He shook his head once to clear it and looked back up at Daken. “See? All better now.”

Daken inhaled, no doubt smelling for traces of alcohol, then grinned. “Cute trick,” he said, coming in close again.

Johnny’s hand went from gripping Daken’s shirt to feeling his chest. “There’s lot of things about me that are cute,” he said.

“Oh?” Daken purred, leaning in, his breath tickling Johnny’s lips. “What sorts of things?”

“Why don't you come here and find out?” Johnny breathed, tilting his head as Daken leaned in. When their lips touched, it felt electric.

At first the kiss was soft, almost sweet. Daken reached up and tangled his fingers into Johnny’s hair, gripping it a little harder than necessary. Johnny moaned and Daken growled, tilting Johnny’s head to deepen the kiss. Daken ground their pelvises together, sending a thrill up Johnny’s spine.

Johnny was panting by the time they broke the kiss, head just as foggy as it had been before he’d sobered up. Daken was still flush against, breathing just as shallow. They locked eyes and Daken grinned.

“Come on,” Daken said, gripping Johnny’s wrist and dragging him along, “let’s have some fun.”

 _You’re going to break my heart_ , Johnny thought as he let himself be led away. Daken was without a doubt bad for Johnny, but Johnny couldn't stop himself. Maybe he deserved it.

* * *

The air in the Negative Zone tasted like dust and rot. The dry, sour taste permeated everything, even Johnny’s cell, but it was worst in the ring.

 _It’s better this way_ , Johnny though, gritting his teeth as his opponent, a tall Vaxian with long swords on his hands (maybe his hands were swords? Johnny couldn't tell), moved swiftly forward. _It’s better that it’s you and not Ben_.

The Vaxian dove for Johnny, who avoided him just in time. Johnny won more of these fights than he lost, but that didn't mean he could slack off. His flames usually protected him, but that wasn’t always the case. The Vaxian at least didn't seem put off at all as Johnny sent showers of fireballs his way. Johnny cursed and tried to stay out of the way of the slashing blades. The Vaxian was quicker than Johnny thought though, and would regularly jolt in front of Johnny, slashing at him with those vicious sword hands.

Johnny managed to evade the Vaxian for a few minutes, trying to pin him in one spot so he could blast him. The fight was starting to drag on and Johnny could tell that the audience was getting impatient. They wanted blood, they wanted a kill.

Suddenly, all Johnny could feel was exhaustion. How long had he been in the Negative Zone, fighting and dying and being put back together? How long would he be here? Would he grow old? Or would the bugs just repair his body continuously, keeping him young forever? The thought of that, of existing in the Negative Zone forever, never dying, dying over and over again, made Johnny want to lay down in the sand and just give up.

In an instant, the Vaxian used Johnny’s momentary exhaustion to his advantage and struck. He slashed Johnny across the stomach, spraying blood over the sand. Johnny sucked in a breath, the pain dull but intense. He hunched over, putting his hand to the gash across his abdomen. Something hot and slick poured out over his hands and he grabbed at it. His entrails slid over his fingers like eels, spilling out of him and leaving him with a strange hollow (ha) feeling.

Blood welled up in Johnny’s throat, bubbling out of his mouth and down his chin. His breath came out shallow as the pressure changed on his lungs. Johnny tried to gather as much as his bowels in his hands as he could, trying not to step on any of the loops dragging on the ground. He could hear the Vaxian coming towards him, most likely ready to cut off his head.

Johnny gasped through the pain, trying to gather his bearings. His blood was pouring out of him and pooling at his feet, turning the sand into a thick red mud. The crowd was working itself into a frenzy, screeching and howling. A riot would probably break out and they would all tear each other to pieces while Annihilus sat in his box, watching them all.

The shadow of the Vaxian crossed into Johnny’s vision. Johnny could hear the audience start to fight, claws scraping against armor. The Vaxian’s shadow lifted it’s long hand sword, preparing to decapitate Johnny.

Johnny snarled, suddenly feeling the rage swell inside of him. Gathering the last of his strength, Johnny lifted his hand towards where he thought the Vaxian was standing and let loose with a blast of flames, pushing them as hot as they would go. When it was over, the Vaxian’s head and left arm were missing, Johnny having burned a clean circle out of him. The Vaxian swayed on his feet for a moment, then crumpled in a heap of steaming flesh.

The crowd began to rip into each other, frenzied by the sudden turn. Johnny’s head was so foggy from blood loss and pain, keeping his eyes steady was a herculean effort. With the last strength he could muster, Johnny glared at Annihilus’s box where the buggy creep was staring down at him, watching, waiting for him to die.

As the world went black and Johnny fell into the pile of his own innards, he wished he would stay dead this time. Anything to avoid the bugs crawling under his skin, putting him back together. Anything not to have to die all over again. Anything to just find some _peace_ for once in his life.

* * *

Johnny stumbled through the alley, laughing at something his friend (Danny? Randy? It doesn’t matter) had said, even though it barely passed for funny. Beatrice (Bernice?) clung to his arm, chattering about a club she knew on the other side of the borough, that she could _totally_ get them into. Johnny didn't care, he just didn’t want the night to end. Not yet, not while he could still feel the coldness under his skin. Not while he could still feel the absence of his flames like a limb he no longer had.

Erica suggested they get a taxi, but Calvin pointed out that there were too many of them to fit in a taxi, so they decided to take the subway instead. Johnny could have pointed out that they could have just taken multiple taxis, but he didn't care. So long as he could surround himself in people and noise, he would be fine.

They began to make their way to the nearest subway, drunkenly and loudly discussing their plans for the rest of the night, which basically amounted to partying even more until the sun came up. That was just fine with Johnny, anything to keep him away from Baxter for a while, away from his family and their alternating pitying and judgemental looks.

Johnny didn’t need pity, he needed to not _feel_.

The subway stank as always, but was thankfully mostly deserted at this time of night. Johnny swayed on the edge of the platform, staring down at the tracks. Around him his ‘friends’ talked excitedly about the club they were going to, how much more they were going to drink and party and enjoy life to the fullest.

Suddenly Johnny felt sick, nauseous like he was about to throw up. The alcohol made his head swim, and all of a sudden Johnny was drowning. The loud voices of the people he was with suddenly grated on his ears, giving him a headache. Johnny wanted to leave them, flame on and fly away.

 _Sometimes I feel without my powers, I'd be nothing._ Johnny heard the train clicking along the track, could see the bright light coming down the tunnel. He began to lean forward over the platform. _I'm shallow… all surface glitter and flash—just like my stupid powers!_

Johnny lifted one foot to take a step off the platform.

“Hey man, let’s take a selfie!” someone shouted in Johnny’s ear, and suddenly there was an arm around him pulling him back from the edge of the platform. Johnny was turned to face a camera phone that someone was holding up.

The train rushed passed with a gust of stale air.

* * *

It had been a bad day. The Unity Squad had had a near miss and the mission had been a disaster, a taxi had splashed him in the street, Johnny had forgotten to eat once again today, and all around it was just a sucky day. When Johnny had sucky days, he went out flying to clear his head. He’d flown in circles around the city, but had finally ended up a ways passed Liberty Island, hovering over the dark water.

Johnny looked up at the sky, searching. For what, he didn't know. Some kind of sign. Some sort of proof that his family was up there, that they were alive and trying to get back to him. Sue, Reed, Val, and Franklin were all out there, somewhere, trying to get home but unable to let Johnny know that they were okay.

The stars glittered weakly through the light pollution of New York, the city that never sleeps, even though it was a completely clear night. Johnny searched for _anything_ that could mean _something_ , even something as simple as Ben returning to earth. As simple as _someone_ returning for Johnny.

“Tell me you're there!” Johnny shouted at the sky. “Give me a sign! I need to know you’re okay!”

Nothing answered him. Not even a twinkle of a star.

“If you’re out there, you need to let me know!” Johnny shouted. “I need to know if I need to come rescue you!”

Still nothing, and Johnny felt himself get angry. “Fine then! _Be_ like that!” His flames flared, hot and bright. “It’s not like I gave you _my whole life_ ! I was _fifteen_ ! I didn’t _know any better_ ! All I had was _you_!”

Whenever Johnny was flamed on, his tears evaporated before they had a chance to form, but Johnny could feel the sting of the salt in his eyes. He could feel his throat constricting and his chest tightening. Johnny sobbed, shutting his eyes tightly and wrapping his arms around himself, curling up slightly, trying to hold himself together.

Johnny slowly opened his eyes, seeing the black water rolling under him. In the night it glimmered slightly, like a reverse pool of stars. If Johnny dropped from this height he would reach terminal velocity by the time he reached the surface, the impact would be like hitting concrete. If the force didn't kill him, it would stun him enough to keep him from flaming on and getting out of the water. The current would sweep him down into the depths, the cold would shock him and keep him from swimming. Out here, there was no one to pull him back from the edge.

Johnny sighed and tilted his head back. “Please,” he begged, “give me something. Anything. _Someone_.”

Silence.

Johnny buried his face in his hands, whimpering and hating himself for it. He couldn't stop trembling. He just couldn’t take it anymore.

Johnny flamed off.

As he plummeted towards the water, Johnny thought about it all. Everything. All the things he’d done, the things he’d seen, the things that had happened to him. The good and the bad washed over Johnny and he felt all at once like a riot and completely calm. He was in agony and he was numb. He felt frozen and pulled in all directions.

 _I just want it to be over_ , Johnny thought.

Seconds before he hit the water, Johnny’s phone rang, the stupid little theme song letting him know exactly who was calling. Johnny’s eyes snapped open and he flamed on, cutting upwards. He was falling too fast though, and couldn't correct himself enough to avoid the water. His shoulder took the brunt of it, a puff of steam bouncing him off the surface. Johnny couldn't get himself coordinated and skipped a few times across the surface of the water before he dropped into it with a splash.

The water surged over Johnny’s head, but the stupid theme song continued and Johnny swam upwards. He broke the surface with a gasp, looking around frantically to find something to swim to. Liberty Island was close enough, he’d flown nearer to it when he’d flamed on. Shaking off the exhaustion, Johnny swam for the shore, trying to keep his head above the water.

After what felt like countless hours, Johnny touched ground and scrambled up the beach. Johnny coughed and gasped, trying to catch his breath. A ping. Voicemail. Johnny grabbed for his phone, glad that superhero-proof phone cases existed.

Johnny didn't bother with the voicemail, or to even check the caller ID, just hit redial and clutched the phone to his ear. Hopefully he still had his phone on him and hadn’t put it down…

 _“Johnny?”_ a familiar voice came through the phone. _“Hey man, thought you were busy or something.”_

“Peter,” Johnny breathed, relief flooding his whole being. “Hey, hi, I’m not busy, hi.”

 _“Johnny?”_ Peter asked, _“you okay man? You sound weird.”_

“Fine,” Johnny said, scooting up the beach, away from the water. “I’m fine. Just… tired.”

 _“I can call back another time if that’s better?”_ Peter suggested.

“No,” Johnny said quickly. If he didn't talk now, didn't have something the anchor himself, he didn’t know what he’d do. “No I’m fine. I can talk.”

 _“I was going to invite you to hang out,”_ Peter said. _“Order some pizza and watch a shitty movie on my big fuckoff TV.”_

Johnny shut his eyes tightly and tried to block out the thought of sitting in the Baxter building right then, being surrounded by what was once his home but was now empty of the thing that had made it home for so long. “I’m already in my pyjamas Pete, no way I’m going out now.”

Peter hummed and Johnny quickly continued. “But I can talk for a bit,” he said. “Come on man, tell me about your weird life.”

With a groan Peter launched into talking about his life, complaining about being a CEO and feeling so out of place in the world of big business, and even a few stories about his weird Spider-related mishaps. Johnny listened, laughing at Peter’s terrible jokes while he sat trembling on the sand, trying not to show how much he was falling apart in his voice.

 _“Anyway,”_ Peter finally sighed, _“I should let you go. I’ve got a meeting early in the morning and you sound exhausted.”_

“I’m fine,” Johnny insisted.

 _“It’s cool man, I get it,”_ Peter said. _“But we should find a time to hang out soon. I miss you buddy.”_

Johnny leaned back and looked up at the stars. “I miss you too,” he said.

Peter’s smile was audible in his voice. _“Get some sleep Torchy. I’ll see you around.”_

“See you,” Johnny said. They both hung up and Johnny put his phone away.

Johnny sat on the little beach for a while, staring up at the sky. His shoulder ached where he’d hit the water, and even though he couldn't feel the cold, he couldn’t stop shivering. Taking a few deep, shaking breaths, Johnny stood up and flamed on, flying back towards the city.

* * *

Peter could feel nothing but agony, deep and soul crushing. Everything hurt and he couldn’t breathe, like there was a weight on his chest, crushing him. Emotions that weren’t his tore at him, yanking at him from all sides. The pull was so strong that Peter felt like he was about to be torn apart. He felt as though his whole body was being distorted and twisted with the intensity of the emotions.

From some distance off there was the sound of someone chanting. All of a sudden, the pulling and twisting subsided and Peter could breathe again. He couldn’t see anything; not so much a blackness as it was an absence, like closing one eye and trying to see out of the same eye. Peter was aware of people next to him, all of them gasping for breath as he was.

“Sue? Reed? Is that you?” Peter called, trying to reach for them but not knowing where exactly they were.

“Peter?” Sue said. “Is that you?”

“Is everyone alright?” Reed asked.

“Got a splittin’ heachache, but I’m alive,” Ben grumbled.

“Where are we?” Sue asked, and Peter noted a slight tremor in her voice.

_You’re inside Johnny’s mind._

“Strange?” Reed called. “Where are you?”

_We don’t have much time. You need to find the creature._

“I can’t _see_ anything, much less find it,” Peter said, trying in vain to see through the nothingness.

_I can only keep you inside for so long, you have to hurry._

“If you could be as kind as ta direct us towards tha thing that needs punchin’, I’ll happily oblige,” Ben growled.

**There’s no need for that.**

Peter immediately felt something cold slither down his spine. “What are you?” he growled, fists clenching.

**I am release. I am action. I am the thing that gives you stupid little monkeys the ability to realize your potential.**

“You almost made Johnny kill himself,” Sue hissed viciously.

There was the sound of laughter, rattling around in Peter’s skull like those hot nickel ball videos. He clenched his teeth and tried to figure out where this _thing_ was.

 **Oh please,** **_I_ ** **barely had to do anything. He was already teetering on the edge.**

“Quit yer lyin’ and come out here so I can clobber you!” Ben shouted.

**Lying, am I?**

Suddenly Peter was awash in memories, emotions, all of them Johnny’s, each enough to leave Peter gasping. The groans and shocked cries from the others told him that they’d felt it too.

 **This child is a barely held together mess of broken pieces. One wrong move, one little push, and the whole thing would collapse. I’ve never encountered anyone who’s pain was so potent who wasn't already about to take the plunge. His self control is** **_delicious_ ** **.**

“Shut your mouth,” Peter growled. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

 **Oh the** **_boyfriend_ ** **. You're so protective of him. I saw it in your mind. You’d never let** **_anything_ ** **happen to him, but what happens when the thing that happens to him is** **_himself_ ** **?**

Peter howled in rage and reached out, trying to find whatever the hell it was that was speaking so he could wrap his hands around its throat and _strangle_ it. He wanted to break its stupid neck and tear off it’s head. The white hot nickel ball laughter rang through his head as Peter’s hands closed around something. He clenched it _hard_ and wished he could do the same to all the pain Johnny felt.

* * *

 

The sensation of slamming back into one’s own body shouldn’t have been as familiar to Peter as it was, but there wasn't any time to think about that now. The taste of sour ash in his mouth made him gag and cough, his eyes stinging. Peter managed to get himself under control just in time to see Johnny’s body contort on the altar, his spine bending in a way that could only be painful and his mouth open in a silent scream.

“Johnny!” Sue cried, rushing to her brother’s side. Her face was streaming with tears.

Doctor Strange was chanting something again, sweat beading on his forehead. A black smoke began to lift from Johnny, twisting and curling on itself. At first it was barely more than a few wisps, but then it erupted into a black cloud. Peter was certain that he could see flashes of teeth and bulbous eyes in it, but they were gone so quickly that he couldn't get a good look. Strange was shouting now, and suddenly the candles around them jumped up into columns of fire. The flames encircled the cloud of smoke while it screeched in a voice that could shatter eardrums. The fire continued to roll over the cloud, containing it and growing smaller and smaller until it was a watermelon sized ball of light. The light grew too bright for a moment, and Peter had to shield his eyes, before it faded, and what was left was a kind of glass-looking ball containing the roiling smoke.

With a deep, tired sigh, Doctor Strange waved his hands and began to float the glass ball away. The rings of light around Johnny fade and he began to wake up. Peter rushed to his side, gently sliding his hand around the back of Johnny’s neck to cradle his head. Johnny’s eyes fluttered open and Peter felt relief like a punch in the gut.

“Wha—?” Johnny’s voice choked slightly. He cleared his throat. “What happened?”

Ben groaned in relief. “Geez kid, you gotta stop scarin’ us like that.”

Johnny tried to sit up, hissing like he was sore. Peter gently helped him up, one hand clenched in Johnny’s and the other staying at his neck, thumb stroking his hairline.

“What do you remember?” Reed asked, nervously stretching his fingers like he couldn't figure out what to do with his hands.

“I remember…” Johnny trialed off, brows furrowing in concentration. All of a sudden Johnny stiffened under Peter’s hands, his eyes going wide as he looked up at all of them. “I remember.” he said.

A silence passed over the room, insidious and sharp. Doctor Strange mumbled something about seeing to the containment and left the room, leaving them alone. Johnny’s gaze flited to each of them, and Peter’s throat constricted.

Strange had said that most of what they’d experience inside of Johnny’s head wouldn’t retain, but enough of it would. Just having ‘enough’ of what was in Johnny’s head made Peter’s stomach turn. Was that what Johnny went through? Had he been carrying all of that alone for this long? The thought made Peter feel feverish. He gripped Johnny’s hand tightly, swearing to never let go.

Johnny pulled his hand away.

“I…” Johnny looked a little like a cornered animal. “I need to go.” He got off the altar and started to make for the door, something hunted in his eyes.

“Johnny,” Sue called, taking a step. Peter was seconds from following her when Johnny turned to look at them.

Johnny’s eyes were wide and bright, _fearful_. His whole body was tense and coiled to run away. He couldn't look any of them in the eye.

“I just… I have to be alone,” Johnny said. As he turned Peter managed to catch his gaze. _Don’t follow, please don't follow_ , they said.

The door banged behind Johnny and there was a woosh of flames. Reed wrapped his arms around Sue as she began to sob, Ben sank into an abandoned chair in the corner of the room and put his head in his hands. Peter just stood there, clenching his fists and wishing he didn’t feel so damned _useless_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy did this get long.
> 
> Edit: So I don't think there's an actual beach on Liberty Island, but for the sake of the fic we're fudging that a bit. A lot of the things in this fic I pulled directly out of canon, and some I just sort of guesstimated. Things like Johnny having a stutter is actually canon, and his whole relationship with Lyja was awful. There's just so much that's happened to this child. Someone save him please.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got it done! This part was a lot more difficult for me, and I had to dig a little deeper into my own experience to get the right feel. There were a few times where I nearly cried. I'm not sure if I got everyone's voices correct, especially Ben and Alicia, but I did my best. I actually ended up cutting a lot of stuff I wanted to get into from the fic, deciding to put it elsewhere in other fics in order to keep the length consistent.
> 
> Trigger warning for a lot of discussions about depression, self loathing, and suicide ideation.

For a few minutes they stood there in nauseous silence, the gravity of it all making Peter sway on his feet. Sue sobbed into Reed’s chest as he gently stroked her hair. Ben was shaking in the chair he’d sat down in, his breathing slow and measured like he was forcing himself not to scream. All Peter could do was stare at the door and think about what had just happened, what he’d just experienced.

Was that what Johnny felt like all the time? How had they _missed_ that? How had they come so close to losing Johnny so many times without ever noticing? What if something had gone wrong and they actually had lost Johnny? Johnny had ‘died’ once before, and it had gutted Peter. What would he have done if one morning he’d woken up to discover that Johnny was dead, not by heroic sacrifice or a close call that got too close, but by his own hand? What would Peter have done if Johnny had killed himself?

Even contemplating that made Peter feel like he was about to throw up.

Eventually Sue began to calm down, her sobs tapering off as she got herself under control. “God,” Sue sniffled, wiping her eyes, “I had no idea Johnny felt that way.”

Peter felt a spike of rage up his spine. “You had _no_ idea?” he asked, whipping around to stare at her. “You’re his _sister_ , how the hell did _you_ not notice?”

Sue looked startled. Reed came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Alright, emotions are very high right now, but let’s not all start pointing fingers,” he said, still clearly shaken up himself.

Peter knew Reed was right, but he didn’t care right now. “Don’t _you_ get on a high horse, _you’re_ the ones who abandoned Johnny in the first place,” he snapped. “What the hell were you even thinking? You know how much he loves you, you _had_ to know how much it would hurt him!”

Reed at least had the decency to look ashamed, though Peter could see Sue start to get angry. She was cut off from saying anything when Ben stood.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Ben growled dangerously. He was holding himself stiffly, barely contained. “Think you oughta shush yer mouth up Spider, before you say somethin’ you’ll regret.”

Peter felt his hackles rise. “I don’t want to hear _anything_ from you!” he said, realizing he was starting to raise his voice but just too upset and raw to care. “ _You_ left Johnny after they did! You _knew_ how upset he was and you _still left_!”

Anger contorted Ben’s face into something truly hideous. “I left for my own reasons! They had _nothin’_ ta do with Johnny!”

“That’s _exactly_ the problem!” Peter shouted back. “You didn’t even _think_ of Johnny! You just _abandoned_ him to go to _space_ ! You’re a selfish asshole _and you know it_!”

Peter’s spider sense kicked in just quickly enough for him to duck the punch Ben threw. He yanked his mask on just as Ben threw the chair he’d been sitting on at him. Peter kicked off the wall and slammed his fist into Ben’s face, making him stumble back.

“If you're going to fight,” Strange’s voice resonated around them as though from a loudspeaker, “I’m going to have to ask you to do it _outside_.”

There was a flash of light and they were suddenly out on the street, the door to 177A Bleecker Street slamming shut. Peter tensed and advanced towards Ben again, but was shoved back by a force field. Ben, who had also been advancing, was toppled over onto his backside.

“ _Enough_ !” Sue shouted, angry enough for Peter’s spider-sense to tingle ever so slightly. “If I see you two so much as _glare_ at each other again _I’ll_ kick _both_ your asses!”

Peter knew better than to test Sue when she was this mad. Ben may have been the brawniest of the Four, but Sue was definitely the meanest by far, and she could and would kick Peter’s ass with one hand tied behind her back. With one last glare behind his mask thrown at the three of them, Peter shot a webline out and swung away. He was too angry and he needed to work it off. If he stayed near them, he might do something he really would regret.

“Come on New York,” Peter hissed through gritted teeth, “give me something to punch.”

Frustratingly, New York seemed to be a little low on the punchables that day. Peter scoured the city for hours and only caught a couple of petty criminals here and there, no one it would be fair to really let his frustrations out on. Peter was winding himself up even _more_ as the day began to stretch into night and nothing he could let loose on wandered into his path.

Peter was just about to call it quits and find a condemned building to trash when something big and grey crossed his line of vision. Rhino, wandering around a deserted street, minding his own business.

 _Perfect_ , Peter thought, swing down to land in front of his long-time villain.

Aleksei stopped when he saw Spider-Man. “Webs? What’re you doing here?” he asked, confused.

In his head, Peter knew that Aleksei was attempting to turn over a new leaf, trying to put his past behind him, but right now Peter didn't care, he just wanted to hit something. He wasted no time in taking a swing at Rhino. His fist connected with Aleksei’s cheek, his hand already throbbing where he’d broken a finger punching Ben.

Rhino grunted as he stumbled back. “What gives!?” he snarled. “I weren't even doing nothing!”

“Fight me,” Peter snarled, stalking towards Rhino from where he’d landed.

“You off yer rocker Webs?” Rhino snorted. “My parole officer gets wind of this, I’m back in the slammer.”

“I don't care!” Peter shouted. “Fight me!”

Aleksei grumbled and waved Spider-man away. “Go bug someone else.”

Peter snarled and lunged for Rhino. Seeing that Spider-Man was determined, Rhino turned to run, his footsteps thundering on the ground as he picked up speed. Spider-Man swung after him, too wound up to let him go without a proper fight. The chase didn't last long though; they ended up in an abandoned warehouse. Rhino skidded to a stop and finally turned to face Spider-Man.

When it was over Rhino was lying flat on his back and Spider-Man was swaying on his feet, breathing hard. His whole body was trembling and he could barely keep his vision straight. With a groan that was almost a sigh, Peter flopped down onto his ass, putting his head between his knees and trying to put his head back together.

“You good now?” Aleksei groused from where he was lying. “Or you need to punch some more?”

Peter waved a hand. “I’m good,” he said.

With a long groan, Aleksei heaved himself up and stared down at Spider-Man’s hunched figure. “You okay? Never seen you like this before.”

“I’m fine,” Peter snapped. Then he sighed. “Sorry, just… had a bad day.”

Aleksei huffed. “Yeah, alright,” he said, starting to walk away. Over his shoulder he called, “If I get in trouble for this, I’m taking it outta yer skin!”

“I’ll deserve it,” Peter mumbled to himself. Clutching his head, Peter finally broke down, his tears making his mask gross and his sobs echoing throughout the empty building.

* * *

When they got back to 4 Yancy street, Reed carefully extracted himself from his wife and best friend and went down to his lab to find something to tinker with. Something fiddly that needed a lot of concentration and focus, something to take his mind off of what he’d just learned. He didn't have any large projects right now though, so he would maybe have to invent something.

Reed plopped himself down at his drafting table and reached for his supplies. However, as his hands started working his mind wandered off against his will, thinking back to what had just happened.

When Reed had first met Johnny, the boy had been around thirteen, living with his aunt and his sister at the boarding house in Glenville. He’d been shy and rather quiet, happiest when he was buried in the guts of a car. Reed had liked the teen instantly, enjoying Johnny’s wonder at all of Reed’s theories of the universe.

Until then, Reed had never given any thought to having children of his own.

Reed had fallen fast and hard for Sue, and loving her had ment loving her brother, something Reed had no qualms about. He’d heard a few accounts of step fathers over the years, taking in their wives children and loving them as their own. Reed could relate to them; after all, Sue had practically raised Johnny herself, and once Reed had entered their lives, he’d done his best to help her.

And then came that fateful day, so many years ago now, when Reed’s hubris cost them all normal lives forever. Reed didn’t really talk about it, but the person he felt most guilty for after Ben was Johnny. Johnny had only been a teenager, a _child_ , and Reed had taken any chance for a normal life away from him. Even if he could have reversed the effects somehow, made them normal again, it wouldn’t have been enough for Johnny. Johnny had been too young, had formed too much of himself around his powers. Reed, Sue, Ben, they all could have coped without their powers, but not Johnny. The few times Johnny had been without his flames had been so difficult for him.

_The train rushed passed with a gust of stale air._

With a start, Reed realized what he’d been building; a brain scanner, something to detect the levels of serotonin, dopamine, and other chemicals responsible for mood. A diagnostic tool for people with depression.

Reed gripped the edge of his desk, his stomach twisting. Carefully, he stood, his body tense like he was ready to snap. With a cry of anguish, Reed swept everything on the desk to the floor, papers scattering and bits of machinery and trinkets crashing to the floor.

Reed’s hands shook as his mind raced. How had he been so blind, so _stupid_ , to not see what was happening to Johnny right under his nose? How had he not noticed Johnny suffering so much? The boy he’d practically _raised_ , who he sometimes thought of as a son, feeling like _that_ this whole time? How many times had Johnny nearly taken his own life? Why hadn’t he _seen_?

But he had seen, hadn’t he? The evidence was there. When Frankie Ray had left earth, Johnny had disappeared for days, only to turn up at Juliette D’Angelo’s apartment, sick with grief. _Tell me why should I bother to go on living?_ Johnny had said when they came to collect him. At the time Reed had thought that Johnny was only in the wallows of fresh pain, that he would heal with time and these thoughts would pass. Reed could name a dozen or so other times when Johnny had made a comment about not wanting to go on, that it would be better if he died instead of someone else, that he felt awful and hated himself. Off-hand little comments and actions that piled up to the ceiling, but Reed hadn’t given them any weight, or at least not enough. He’d had everything he needed to put it together, and Reed had _refused_ to acknowledge the reality. He hadn’t _wanted_ to consider how bad things were for Johnny. He’d wanted to stay in his nice safe bubble of assumption, telling himself that if anything were wrong, he would surely notice.

Smartest man on the planet, what an absolute joke.

“Dad?”

Reed’s head snapped up. Franklin and Valeria stood in the entryway of the lab, looking uncertain and nervous. “Dad?” Franklin said again. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“Where’s uncle Johnny?” Val asked, accusatory.

 _Family history can increase risk of developing mental disorders by as much as 50%_ , Reed’s brain unhelpfully reminded him. The sickening thought of his children ever feeling that way, like they’d rather die than live on, made Reed’s blood run cold.

“Kids, come here a moment,” Reed asked, forcing himself to be calm. “I want to talk with you about something.”

Franklin darted over, though Valeria came at a slower pace, still suspicious. Reed wrapped his arms around them both, pulling them close and just feeling their tiny bodies against his. They were growing so fast. Wasn't it only a little while ago that Franklin barely reached his hip? Since when had Valeria gotten too big for him to carry in his arms?

“Dad?” Franklin asked, sounding even more worried now. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly Reed’s mind conjured images of slit wrists, handfuls of pills gulped down, the cold metal of a gun barrel against a blonde temple. The two of them had already seen so much, been through so much hardship. The Baxter Building was so tall and the roof was easily accessible, it would have been easy to…

“Dad you’re squeezing us,” Valeria said, wriggling slightly. Reed’s arms were coiled around them both like pythons, pulling them tightly to him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Reed said, loosening his grip but not letting them go. “Kids, I want you two to promise me something, okay?”

“Okay?” Franklin said, sharing a concerned look with his sister.

“If you ever feel like—” Reed’s throat did something odd. He took a deep breath. “If either of you ever start feeling like you're sad all the time, or like you want to… want to _hurt_ yourselves,” Reed trembled slightly, “I want you to talk to someone, okay?”

Franklin looked slightly alarmed, but Val only furrowed her brows. Reed quickly continued. “It doesn't have to be me, or your mother, or anyone in the family, but it has to be _someone_ okay? Someone you trust to help you,” he said. “Promise me you’ll do that?”

“Dad…” Val started.

“Please,” Reed begged, “promise me.”

Val and Franklin shared another look. It amazed him sometimes, his children were so incredible and knew each other so well. He hoped they would stay as close as they were. He hoped they would lean on each other in tough times. If they talked to anyone, he knew it would be with one another.

“We promise,” Val said, resting her head on her father’s shoulder. Franklin put his arm around Reed’s chest and grabbed a handful of stretchy flesh, the way he’d done since he was a baby.

Reed let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he said. It wouldn’t protect them, not from developing any mental illnesses, but at the very least it could help them from feeling alone. That would have to be enough.

A few moment’s passed, Reed making no move to let either of them go. Val began to squirm again. “Dad,” she started to complain.

“Just another minute,” Reed asked, pulling them closer. “Just… please give me another minute.”

Val looked up at him, something flickering in her eyes, her genius mind no doubt working to figure it all out. After a second she tucked her head under his chin and curled into him. Franklin tightened his grip and Reed sighed, wishing he was smart enough to know what to do in this situation.

* * *

 Metal shredded under Ben’s hands, the screech grating on his ears, drowning out the sounds of his own thoughts. The robots kept coming, and Ben kept moving, kept swinging and crushing, kept trying to keep him mind from wandering into dangerous territory.

Eventually, the loudspeaker beeped and the robots froze. Reed’s time-limit shut off, to make sure they didn't over-extend themselves. Ben’s access code to the training room wouldn't work for another eight hours, enough time to get a full night’s rest. He could have cheated, used Reed or Sue’s access codes (the thought of using Johnny’s code rang hollow), but Ben knew that it wouldn't do any good. He could have smashed his way to oblivion and it wouldn't make a difference, he’d still feel like garbage.

With a sigh, Ben left the training room and headed for the showers. A part of him still felt like going out, finding Spider-Man again and settling things, but he knew it wouldn’t make him feel better. Besides, Peter had a point.

Ben had left Johnny when he’d needed him most.

He could try to justify it as much as he wanted, spend hours explaining his reasons; his own grief, the fight he and Johnny had, the tiny part of him that hoped Reed and Sue _were_ out there in the stars and waiting for him to find them, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered, because he’d left Johnny behind. He’d abandoned Johnny to go gallivanting across space, choosing himself over his own promise, to take care of Johnny like the kid brother he’d never had. When he’d come back, he’d spun a tale about knowing where Reed and Sue were, just to see some light come back into Johnny’s eyes. He’d been selfish and cruel, and he had no one to blame but himself.

In the shower Ben watched the water swirl around the drain, the rivulets stained with orange stone dust. Unbidden, a thousand and one things Ben had said to Johnny floated back to him. All the times he’d told Johnny he was stupid, an airhead, nothing but a dumb kid, too much good looks and not enough brains. He’d never meant a word of it, even when Johnny had been his most annoying, but now Ben couldn't help it. The words twisted and warped in his head, his own voice becoming meaner and Johnny’s eyes stinging with genuine hurt each time.

There was a crack, and Ben looked up to see that he’d crushed the tile he was leaning on. With a grumble, Ben tried to scoop up as much of the shattered marble as he could. He shut off the water and got out, tossing the shards in the trash as he reached for a towel.

Once he was dressed, Ben wandered out through the halls, no real goal in mind. How long had it been since he’d met Johnny? Fifteen years, give or take? A fair chunk of time for Ben, but that was nearly half of Johnny’s entire life. The kid had been so young when he’d first met him, the kid brother of his best friend’s girlfriend. Big blue eyes set into a cherubic little face on top of the skinny little body, the picture of childish innocence. He’d watched Johnny grow from that child into the man he was today, and as hotheaded and brash as he could be, there was still something _fragile_ about Johnny. Maybe it was because he’d known Johnny when he was so young, maybe it was because Ben was so oafishly large in comparison to Johnny, or maybe Ben had _known_ , deep down, that Johnny was so close to breaking, but Ben had always tried to look out for him.

Until he hadn’t.

Ben remembered the day when Johnny had gotten trapped in the Negative Zone. He remembered watching Johnny turn away from the gate, smiling sadly, to face the oncoming horde. Ben had slammed on the gate as hard as he could as his strength returned. In his mind he’d screamed every prayer he knew at every higher being he could think of, hoping that if not his, then _someone’s_ God would do something, _anything_ , because _please not him, no no no not him, please!_

That night, Ben had listened to Val scream herself to sleep. He’d watched Sue spend the week wandering around like a ghost. Reed had flung himself into his projects like a man possessed. Franklin had wandered off, unable to stand being around any of them. All Ben could think of was how much it should have been him. Johnny was like a bright star, and his death had left a black hole in his absence. Until Johnny had returned, ragged and worn but blessedly _alive_ , Ben didn't think there would have been a time when he felt whole ever again.

Ben was suddenly struck with a horrifying thought; if Johnny had (succeeded? failed?) when he almost plunged into the water, he wouldn't have known about it. It would have taken weeks, _months_ for the information to get to him. What would he have done, if he’d learned that Johnny had taken his own life while Ben had been away, when he could have, _should_ have helped him? Johnny had been in so much pain and Ben had nearly lost him, and it would have been all his fault.

 _How could you think that kid_ ? Ben though, eyes stinging. _How could you think that the world would be better with you gone? How could you think we could go one without you?_

“Ben?” a voice cut through the darkness. “Are you alright?”

“Alicia,” Ben called softly, “I’m right here baby.”

Alicia picked her way across the floor and stepped into Ben’s arms. “Is everything alright?” she asked. “I thought I heard you crying.”

Ben wrapped her up in his impossibly large arms. “I’ll be alright Alicia, it’s gonna be okay.”

Alicia, bless her heart, didn't ask. “Why don't we go to bed?” she suggested. “You sound tired.”

“Yeah,” Ben sighed, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. “Let’s go ta bed.”

Alicia led him through the dark house, her hand on his wrist. Ben felt ironically as though he were blind, being led to bed by his beautiful, kind wife who deserved so much more than him. As they laid down together, Ben wrapping himself around her protectively, he couldn't get his mind to quiet.

“Alicia?” he asked softly, half-hoping she was already asleep.

“Yes?” Alicia answered.

“Do ya ever think about Lyja?” he asked.

“Lyja? The Skrull?” Alicia asked, furrowing her brow. “The alien who replaced me and took over my life? The woman who tricked Johnny into marrying her and nearly killed you?”

Ben winced, wishing he hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, her.”

Alicia’s frown deepened and she buried herself further into Ben’s arms. “I try not to think about her, actually,” she said.

“Yeah,” Ben sighed, “me too.”

* * *

 Sue didn't sleep that night. She was too busy.

For the first few hours, she’d done nothing but cry, alternating between silent tears running down her face and wracking sobs. After she’d finished crying, she’d let herself drift on emptiness for a while, too numb to do anything. After regaining herself, she’d finally gotten to work. Facebook and Google were her tools that night, as well as a backdoor into the Avengers databases. A few searches got her what she was looking for.

Claude Thompson, after he’d moved away to live with his father in Queens, had apparently gone on to live a normal life, and now lived in Staten Island with his wife and two daughters, selling pet insurance.

Carter Fowler and Brian Jordan had remained friends after high school, and had joined the police force together. A news article from last year implicated Brian in a police brutality case where a twelve year old black girl had her shoulder dislocated and her face pushed so hard into the pavement that she’d gotten road rash.

Derek Martindale was interesting. Not long after graduating he’d married his high school sweetheart. Six months later she’d given birth to a baby boy. Derek had followed in his father’s footsteps and become a pastor, living a seemingly normal life for almost thirteen years. A couple of years ago he’d suddenly gotten a divorce and fought for full custody of his child. Now he was living in Manhattan with his new fiancé Winston and his recently transitioned daughter, running a new parish that seconded as a refuge centre for LGBT teens and youth.

Brittney Dejung had been a few years older than Johnny, and took a little bit more searching to find. It turned out that she’d become a nurse’s aide, had never married and had no kids. Some further digging unearthed about a dozen and a half citations for sexual misconduct with patients, all of them thrown out for lack of evidence.

Sue sat back in her chair and regarded the profile photo. Brittney hadn’t aged well from the girl Sue remembered. As a teenager her hair had been heavily bleached, and Sue remembered her makeup being a little on the thick side, but even under that she’d had a narrow face with a pulled-up nose and weak chin, giving her a slightly rat-like appearance. Even so, she’d been nice enough as far as Sue recalled. In the photo Brittney’s hair was still bleached, but it had lost whatever silkiness it used to have and looked matted and straw-like. The makeup was still heavy and still reminiscent of a teenager who didn't have the hang of her own face shape. The slight baby-fat that had stubbornly clung to her and softened the severity of her face had long since melted away, leaving her more rat-like than ever. Her teeth were yellow and even under her makeup her skin was rough and had the tell-tale pitting of long term heavy smoking.

Sue clicked back through the other profiles she’d dug up. Carter had a prematurely receding hairline that he unsuccessfully tried to cover and Brain had gotten fat and doughy. Derek looked wan and tired, but happy in his photos. Claude Sue actually hadn’t remembered at all, and she was surprised by how handsome he was in his pictures. There were other people she remembered; Mike Snow, David George Munson, a couple of girls who’d started a vicious rumor about Johnny, Laurie Hamilton, the girl who’d asked Johnny out and then stood him up because it had actually been a prank. A dozen other people Sue hadn’t given a single thought about since leaving Glenville behind for good. Why would she? She’d hated Glenville just as much as Johnny had.

When Sue had hired Brittney, she’d gotten her number from a flyer at the school. She’d asked a few of the kids in Johnny’s class if they’d improved under her tutorship and the boys had all affirmed, their grins something Sue hadn’t really deciphered until much later, until _now_. Sue hadn’t thought to ask the parents for any recommendations, and the parents hadn’t thought to help her out. Sue could still remember their sharp gazes at her back, their judgement and pity.

 _Poor thing_ , they’d used to say behind her back, _She could have really_ been _something if she didn’t have to putter around looking after that brother of hers_. As though her brother was some kind of unfortunate burden and not the last precious thing she had in the world.

Sue remembered the few PTA meetings she gone to, the leers of the fathers and male teachers and the jealous glares of their wives. Whenever she’d tried to make friends with the mothers of the children in Johnny’s classes she’d felt their condescending tones reverberate in her head. Middle-aged housewives and young momtrepreneurs treating her like she belonged at the kids table, like she hadn’t practically raised her brother by herself. Sue had worked hard to put herself through college and look after Johnny at the same time. Some nights she’d only gotten three hours of sleep between homework and spending time with her brother.

Aunt Marygay hadn’t wanted them, and she made no secret of that. Sue and Johnny lived under her roof and ate her food, but they might as well have been borders for all Aunt Marygay bothered with them. In fact she seemed more amenable to her borders than she did to her niece and nephew. Sue had done all of the heavy lifting when it came to looking after Johnny, Aunt Marygay being little more than a roof over their heads. She’d especially seemed to not like Johnny.

There was something that Aunt Marygay used to say that Sue always remembered, not for it being clever or insightful, but just odd. Aunt Marygay had used to believe that you could tell a lot about who a person was by the manner in which they were born. When Sue had been born, it had almost been a perfunctory affair. Mary Storm had gone into labor exactly on the expected day, spent a respectable five hours in labor, and Susan had been born completely healthy and normal. Until of course Sue had begun to scream her lungs out.

Sue had cried and kicked and flailed so much when she was born that a specialist had been called in to examine her, but they could find nothing wrong. Eventually she’d tired herself out and gone to sleep. When she woke up later she was a perfectly happy baby, much to everyone’s relief.

“There was nothing _wrong_ with you,” Aunt Marygay said, “you just had to let everyone know what your _opinion_ was.”

When Johnny had been born, it had been a much different event. Six weeks early and delivered via cesarean, Johnny had come into the world with a mewl and then immediately gone into respiratory distress, all while Mary nearly hemorrhaged to death from a placental abruption.

Sue, ten years old and having already decided she was bored to tears over this whole ‘new baby brother’ business, had seen little baby Jonathan laid out in his incubator covered in mean looking tubes and wires and changed her mind in an instant. Suddenly Johnny was _hers_ to protect and love and care for. Something about the sight of Johnny as a baby had reminded her of those baby birds that fell out of the nest, which Sue had always carried back up the tree to return to their homes. Johnny was her baby bird now, something that had delighted Mary and perplexed Franklin.

In the present, Sue realized that the sky was starting to lighten through the windows. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to refocus on her task. Exiting the profiles she’d dug up, Sue started scouring online bookstores, looking for anything that might help. Half a dozen titles about helping a family member with depression found themselves in Sue’s checkout cart, the overnight shipping box checked. A few websites also made it to Sue’s bookmarks, and Sue spent a few more hours reading article after article. By the time she was finished she was too exhausted to sleep.

Stretching with a tired groan, Sue got up and went to have a shower. It was still early enough in the morning that everyone else was probably still asleep, so she could get a start on breakfast.

On her way to the kitchen, Sue noticed with only a small amount of surprise that while Reed had never made it to bed either, he hadn’t been holed up in his lab the whole night. Instead he was stretched out in the living room with Franklin and Val, the three of them curled up together in a ‘dad hammock’, something Reed had done when the kids were much smaller. One arm and his legs were stretched out between two rafters, Reed’s body stretched down into a hammock where Franklin and Val were sleeping, Reed’s other arm wrapped around them securely.

Sue let out a long breath and crossed the room to where her family slept.  The kids were honestly getting too big for it to be comfortable, but they were sleeping soundly wrapped in their father’s stretchy body. Reed on the other hand slept with a slightly pinched expression. Sue hoped it was just from the discomfort of staying stretched out the way he was, but she knew it wasn’t. Carefully, she leaned down and kissed the tops of Franklin and Valeria’s heads, inhaling the scent of shampoo from their blonde hair. She kissed Reed’s cheek and made to move away.

“Sue? Reed called sleepily, blinking groggily up at her. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching up with one snaked out hand to brush her cheek.

Sue smiled sadly. “I’ll be okay,” she said, leaning into the touch. She reached up and threaded her fingers through Reed’s turning his hand to kiss his knuckles.

Reed watched her for a moment, his brown eyes deep with sorrow. Gently he tugged her down, carefully stretching his body so Sue could snuggle in behind Val. Their daughter gave a sleepy groan and settled down again.

“Get some rest,” he breathed, tucking his arm around all three of them and gently petting Sue’s hair.

Sue let out a long sigh and curled her arms around her children as best she could and tucked her head under her husband’s chin. Breakfast could wait.

* * *

 There was no sign of Johnny for three days.

Peter was losing his mind with worry, frantically searching the city, punching every baddie he met with extreme prejudice, fearing the worst. Now that Peter knew what Johnny was capable of doing to himself, his mind wouldn’t leave it alone. Scenarios played out in his head, and more than once he woke up screaming from a nightmare where he found Johnny too late. Even the _thought_ of cradling Johnny’s lifeless body in his arms made Peter shake with terror. He spent hours walking along the beaches, searching the water and praying that he didn’t find anything.

On the third day, Peter nearly inhaled the mouthful of cereal he’d been listlessly chewing on when Johnny’s text tone had gone off on his phone. Scrambling for his phone, it took him a moment to actually decipher what was blinking at him from the screen.

_I’m sorry I ran off. I need to be alone. Please don't look for me yet._

Peter was dizzy with relief, but he couldn’t help the anxious swirl in his gut. Coughing violently to dislodge the cereal from his windpipe, Peter texted back.

_Where are you? Are you okay?_

_I’m fine_ , Johnny replied, the response curt, _I just need some time to think._

Peter hated it. Hated it hated it _hated it_ , but what else could he do? He couldn’t force Johnny to tell him where he was, nor could he force him to come home. Peter would just have to grit his teeth and be patient. He _hated_ being patient.

 _7 days?_ Peter suggested. A time frame would help him mitigate his churning anxiety.

 _Yes_ , Johnny agreed. _I promise I’ll come home. I just need to think._

Peter bit his lip and bounced his leg so hard he shook the table, trying to think of something to type back. _I love you_ , he wrote, pouring as much emotion as he could into the words, hoping it came across.

 _I love you too_ , Johnny replied. When nothing else came, Peter put his phone down and hung his head.

“Uh buddy?” Randy said, “You’re getting your hair in your cereal.”

* * *

 By day four, Peter was close to snapping. Ever since Johnny's texts he'd been drifting along, hour by hour, anxiety chewing at his already frayed nerves. At work he was irritable and short with the students, which under any other circumstances he would feel bad about. As it was he could hardly concentrate on anything he was doing.

"Isss everything okay?" Doctor Connors asked him one day after Peter had spilled acid on his hand and swore a blue streak in front of thirty students.

"Fine," Peter snapped, running his hands under the wash station. It would heal quickly, but _shit_ had it hurt.

Doctor Connors watched Peter with a concerned expression (as concerned as a giant lizard could look anyway). "Perhapsss you ssshould take sssome time off?" he suggested gently, as though he was speaking to an aggressive animal that might turn and bite at any moment.

Peter thought about alternating puttering around his apartment and going out swinging to punch bad guys and Not Look For Johnny (because he was terrible). While the extra time to punch bad guys in the face would be nice, Peter knew better than to think that it would be beneficial for his mental health.

"No, that's fine," Peter said, trying to reign himself in enough to flash a reassuring smile.

Connors didn't look reassured. He reached out and laid a clawed hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Jussst be careful,” he said. “And remember that you can talk to me if you need to.”

Peter nodded. “Thanks,” he said sullenly, feeling even shittier. Connors gave his shoulder a squeeze before walking off to address the class again. Peter made a show of putting a bandage on his hand even though he didn't need one.

Peter probably would have broken his promise to Johnny to leave him alone and let him figure it out if Wyatt hadn't called. He’d been out swinging, trying to find something to distract him long enough to actually feel how tired he was. So far it hadn’t worked.

When his phone rang at the bottom of a swing, Peter considered ignoring it. Sue had tried calling once and Peter had just let it go to voicemail, then ignored the voicemail. It wasn't Johnny’s ringtone either, so he didn’t feel compelled to answer.

 _Might as well see who it is_ , Peter thought tiredly, digging through his hidden pockets to pull out his phone. When he saw Wyatt Wingfoot’s name on his cracked phone screen, it took him a moment to put two and two together. With a jolt Peter realized how stupid he'd been. Of course Johnny had gone to Wyatt's, who else would he have trusted aside from his family and Peter?

Peter landed on the side of a building and scrambled to answer. "Is he with you?" he asked quickly, eschewing any preamble.

 _“He's here,"_ Wyatt said.

Peter nearly fell off the wall he was sticking to with relief. "Oh, thank God," he breathed, doubling over and taking a few deep breaths. The world span and Peter crouched down, putting his head between his knees. "Is he okay?"

There was a pause on the line and Peter's heart rate spiked. _"He's safe,"_ Wyatt answered.

 _Safe_ , the word chased it's tail around Peter's head. Something awful occurred to him. "Did… did you know?" he asked, feeling ill.

Another long pause followed by a deep sigh. _"I'd guessed,"_ Wyatt admitted, _"I had a cousin who'd… I just recognized the signs is all. It's not that he meant to keep it from you, and it wasn't my place to tell you either."_

Peter closed his eyes and fought off the odd proxy-memories he'd retained from Johnny's head. How much had Wyatt known? Had he known _how_ close Johnny was to the edge? Peter tried not to be angry, knowing it wouldn't get him anywhere helpful.

"How is he?" Peter asked through gritted teeth.

 _"Pretending,"_ Wyatt said. _"He's been out in the garage mostly. I didn't get the whole story, but I guess something big happened?"_

Peter took a deep breath. "Yeah, you could say that," he said.

Wyatt let out another sigh. _“I’ll keep an eye on him,”_ he promised, _“and I’ll call in case anything happens.”_

The thought of _anything happening_ made Peter’s blood go cold. “Yeah, sure, thanks,” he said, the words clipped.

There was another long pause, and Peter was about to hang up when Wyatt spoke again. _“He really loves you, you know that right?”_

Peter’s throat felt tight. “Yeah, I know. I love him too.”

 _“He needs that right now, more than ever,”_ Wyatt said.

Peter sucked in a breath. “Yeah, I know,” he said, not knowing what else to say. _I just hope it’s enough_ , he thought to himself.

* * *

 On the seventh day since the incident, Johnny finally showed up.

Peter was out swinging again, too keyed up to sleep even though he was exhausted. It was the dead of night, inching slowly towards morning. Peter hadn’t slept in days and he was cranky and anxious. Earlier that day he’d snapped at a student, a sweet, sensitive girl everyone knew to be gentle with, and made her cry. Doctor Connors had ‘suggested’ a little more forcefully than before that he take the rest of the day off to get some rest. As if that hadn’t made Peter feel shitty enough, he’d gotten another phone call from Sue. There hadn’t been a voicemail this time, but Peter still felt guilty. He’d been so angry at the time, and they’d all been an easy target. Peter still felt like a cad for all the nasty things he’d said to Ben.

When Peter saw the streak of fire across the sky, he nearly slammed into a building. Johnny was a bit far off, flying above the city aimlessly, but Peter would know that figure anywhere. Heart thudding in his throat, Peter took off.

“Johnny!” he called, voice pitchy and embarrassingly desperate. He didn’t care though, he had to know Johnny was okay.

Johnny noticed him right away, and thankfully he swooped down to an empty roof and waited instead of running away. Peter landed on the roof, stumbling forward from the momentum but using it to practically crash into Johnny, throwing his arms around him tightly.

“I was so worried,” Peter breathed, holding Johnny so close he could feel Johnny’s rib cage shift against him.

Johnny laughed, the sound jarring. “I’m fine Pete, you didn't need to worry.”

Johnny was warm against him, but Peter was practically shaking. He tangled his fingers in Johnny’s hair, feeling the silky golden curls through his gloves and inhaling the ash and ozone smell of him just after he flamed off.

“I worry,” Peter said.

Johnny curled his arms around Peter’s ribs as best he could while his arms were pinned by Peter’s deathgrip. After a moment he started to squirm. “Hey come on, let’s have some fun,” he said.

“Fun?” Peter asked, pulling back enough to look in Johnny’s face. After all that, Johnny wanted to have fun?

“Yeah,” Johnny said, stepping out of Peter’s arms. His smile was bright and plastic. “I was going to go home but,” he shrugged, the shadow of something crossing his face, “I don’t feel like it. Hey! Let’s race!”

With that, Johnny lit up and hovered a little, away from Peter’s reach. “Race you to the usual place!” he cried joyfully before he was zipping away.

Peter heart sank into his stomach at the sight of Johnny flying off towards the river, and he quickly followed. Johnny ducked and weaved through the buildings, laughing with delight when Peter would get close enough to almost catch him, but his movements were stiff and tightly controlled. Peter knew better than to think he was okay.

 _Pretending_ Wyatt had said. Peter’s heart ached.

When they reached the water, Johnny doubled back and swooped down over Peter. Body moving instinctively, Peter lifted his arms and let himself be carried over the river, the water black as ink underneath him. He glared at it as though it was at fault for the association he couldn’t help but think of now.

They landed on Lady Liberty’s head, Peter dropping down and Johnny following a second later. Above them the sky was beginning to lighten. Johnny sighed and stretched, making a show of how relaxed he was, how he was just fine and Peter didn't need to worry. Some other lifetime ago Peter would have taken it. He would have accepted that Johnny was fine and if he wanted to talk he would talk.

Peter was never going to make that mistake again.

“It’s such a nice night,” Johnny sighed. “Isn’t it?”

“Johnny,” Peter said, his voice low and purposeful. He didn't miss the way Johnny flinched.

“We should go out,” Johnny suggested, not looking at Peter. “Get pizza or something. You can show me where the ‘right’ Ray’s is.”

“ _Johnny_ ,” Peter breathed, his voice cracking slightly.

“ _Peter_ ,” Johnny said back, crossing his arms around himself and curling slightly, like he was trying to hold himself together. “I _can’t_.”

Peter watched Johnny for a moment. He _could_ just leave it, could just ignore it for now and play along until Johnny felt like talking. But who knew how long that could take? A few hours, days, _weeks_? And in the interim all sorts of things could happen to distract them. Galactus, Thanos, Dr. Doom, Mole Man, any number of crazy shit could happen that would keep them from talking about it. They would go on Not Talking About It until it would just be too long, until they swept it under the pile of things they should have talked about but just never got around to.

“Johnny,” Peter breathed, stepping forward and resting his hands on Johnny’s hips. He bent his head forward and pressed his forehead to the back of Johnny’s neck. “Please.”

Johnny dipped his head forward, beginning to tremble. When Peter heard the hitching sobs start he turned Johnny in his arms and held him close. Johnny buried his face in Peter’s neck, tears soaking his costume while Peter gently shushed him and petted his hair, rubbing his back and kissing his head.

“It’s okay,” Peter said. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

They stayed that way for what felt like hours, Peter eventually moving them to sit down, Johnny curled up on his lap like a fragile child. Dawn approached around them, the black sky around them giving way to a pale blue, and finally to streaks of yellow and pink as the sun peeked over the horizon.

Johnny turned his head slightly from where it was resting against Peter shoulder. He seemed to have cried himself out and was exhaustedly curled up in Peter’s arms, laying against his chest with his head tucked under Peter’s chin. As the sun started to drag it’s way over the horizon, he let out a long, tired sigh.

“Peter?” he asked, his voice raw and barely more than a whisper.

“Yes? What do you need?” Peter asked, fighting to keep his body relaxed against Johnny’s.

Johnny took a deep breath and Peter forced himself to be patient, contenting himself with stroking his thumb just behind Johnny’s ear. Peter intermittently pressed kisses to to top of his golden head, trying to be supportive.

“I don’t… _like_ myself,” Johnny said.

Peter sucked in a breath, but before he could tell Johnny how wonderful, beautiful, smart he was, Johnny pinched him and the words tangled in his throat, coming out as a huff.

“Please Pete,” Johnny said, sounding exhausted, “just _listen_ okay?”

Peter shut his mouth with an audible click. He was a talker, a good talker most of the time (about half of the time), but he could be a listener too. For Johnny he would be anything he needed.

Johnny took a few moments to collect himself. “It’s not all the time,” he said. “Most days I can convince myself that it’s fine, that I’m fine and everything is just _fine_ . I go through the day and everything is normal. I even like _parts_ of myself. I like how I look, I like being the Human Torch, being a superhero. Sometimes I even like being famous,” he laughed like it wasn't funny. “But then there are days where it’s all I can do to get out of bed. Because who needs me? What do _I_ do that’s so special? Light on fire? I can name six other heros who do that and more.”

“Without my powers, without my fame, my _family’s_ fame, I’m just another pretty face on an empty head,” Johnny said. “And I didn’t even do anything to _deserve_ what I have. I’m not a genius, I didn’t build the rocket, or make the plan to go to space. Fuck, I didn’t even come up with the idea to make us famous. I was just… along for the ride.”

Peter swallowed, trying to digest everything that Johnny had said. Was that really how Johnny felt about himself? Couldn't he see what a beautiful, wonderful, _amazing_ person he was? Peter had never met a person more deserving of love, or admiration. If it hadn’t been for Johnny, Peter wouldn't be the person he was.

 _Never say die!_ The words had always filled Peter with such hope, like he could do anything. The irony of them now that Peter knew wasn't lost on him.

“Peter?” Johnny said, lifting his head to look up at Peter. His blue eyes were filled with tears. “I can’t… I’m so _tired_ Peter. I can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I want… I want to be _happy_ ,” the tears spilled down his cheeks, “but I’m _not_ , and I don’t think I know how to be.”

Peter’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces. He could do a lot of things; lift a truck over his head, stick to walls, think as fast as he could move, but he didn’t know what to do about this. He’d saved the world countless times, but what did that matter when he floundered on how to save the most important person in his life?

“Come here,” Peter said, winding his arms around Johnny and pressing him close. “We’ll figure it out Johnny, I promise okay? We’re going to figure it out together.”

Johnny sniffled and sobbed, tiny broken little noises like needles stabbing Peter’s already battered heart. He kissed the top of Johnny’s head, as though it could make a difference. On the horizon the sun was lighting up the sky in beautiful pinks, yellows, and oranges. The colours swirled on the clouds and the early morning mist gave everything a soft glow. New York glittered drowsily in the early light, the city rowsing from another restless night. Any other day Peter would have marvelled at the beauty of it all, but right now all he could look at was the person he loved falling apart in his arms, not knowing how to put him back together again.

* * *

 Peter took Johnny back to his apartment instead of Yancy street. He’d deliberated for a while, but it didn’t seem like Johnny was up to facing his family and their million questions right now. Plus the thought of sequestering Johnny away at his place made Peter feel a little better. He could keep close watch on Johnny that way.

Once Johnny had showered and changed into some of Peter’s borrowed clothes, he’d collapsed onto bed and gone right to sleep. Peter had crawled in next to him, but he was too awake to sleep. All the things Johnny had told him rolled around in his head, tumbling over one another.

Peter liked to think of himself as a smart guy, but he didn’t have a clue what to do next. What _did_ you do when your boyfriend tells you that he’s not happy and sometimes feels like he’d rather die? How did you even _respond_ to that? Everything Peter could think to do, try and cheer Johnny up, make him laugh, tell him how much he loved him, tell him how wonderful and special he was, even in Peter’s mind it all fell flat. Carefully so as not to dislodge Johnny from his arms, Peter scooped up his phone from the bedside table and started to browse the internet.

Making sure to send off a quick text to Doctor Connors telling him that he was taking a day off finally, Peter set to work, scrolling through blog after medical info site after self-help site. A lot of them said the same things, some of it was alright, some of it was utter garbage, and there were even a few gems here and there.

In the middle of Peter tapping through an article on the benefits of taking your depressed significant other outside for fresh air on a regular basis, Peter’s phone buzzed with a text from Sue.

 _Do you know where Johnny is?_ the first one asked, followed by, _Wyatt called and said he was on his way home, but he never showed up._

Peter felt a twinge of guilt. _He’s here with me_ , he wrote.

 _Is he okay?_ Sue asked, only moments later.

 _He’s asleep_ , Peter replied, then after a moments internal debate, _I’m sorry._

 _Me too_ , Sue wrote, leaving it at that.

Peter sighed and put down his phone. He rubbed his eyes until he saw spots, finally feeling the exhaustion in his joints, in his bones. He looked down at Johnny, asleep in his arms. Peter remembered the first time he’d brought Johnny to his apartment, the night they’d finally kissed. They’d been too eager, too drunk on each other. Peter had laid Johnny out on his bed and spent hours doing all the things he’d ever imagined doing to Johnny. Johnny had been _gorgeous_ laid out under him, golden hair fanned out on the pillow, his body a map of perfection, his face twisted in pleasure. Peter had half-wished he’d had a camera, just to capture how breathtakingly stunning Johnny was.

Johnny was still beautiful, even now. He looked tired and worn out, but there was still something so heart-stopping about him. Maybe it was just how much Peter loved him skewing his perception. No, that wasn’t right, it was an objective _fact_ that Johnny was beautiful, the kind of face that would have made Aphrodite sick with jealousy. Everyone and their mother knew what a showstopper Johnny was.

But none of them _knew_ him, Peter realized. Very few people actually knew Johnny in any intimate way. If Peter didn't know him, if he only had magazines and interviews to go off of, he would believe that Johnny was a shallow, self-obsessed, womanizing party boy who’s only talent was lighting himself on fire and occasionally helping his family save the world. The rest of the world didn't know that Johnny was a great cook, that he loved kids and wanted a houseful of his own someday, that he was one of the kindest people Peter had ever met. Johnny was loving and sweet, and gave his heart away much too easily. Peter was lucky he’d ever somehow convinced Johnny to look in his direction, much less fall in love with him.

Yet somehow Johnny couldn’t see his own worth. He saw himself as others saw him, and that thought made Peter want to rip every stupid magazine in the world to pieces.

Johnny slept for seventeen hours, the entire day. It was getting dark by the time he finally woke up. Peter had managed a few hours of sleep here and there, but had spent a good chunk of the day skittering around the apartment, cleaning and doing laundry and finding things to do. Something physical to keep him busy.

When Johnny finally shuffled out of the bedroom, Peter had scrubbed the kitchen twice, the bathroom three times, and was just about to start on the living room again. He was lucky no one else was home that day because he was sticking to the walls and lifting furniture to get into all the nooks and crannies. Who knew dust could pile up so much on top of the kitchen cabinets?

When Peter spotted Johnny shuffling through the living room, wrapped in a blanket and looking like he hadn’t slept in days, he bolted up and vaulted over the couch, landing in front of Johnny. “Hey, you’re up. You hungry?” he asked. “Because I sure could eat, boy howdy. Let me tell you, scrubbing the whole apartment sure works up an appetite.”

Johnny blinked slowly. “Oh, yeah. You want me to cook?” he asked, starting to wander in the direction of the kitchen.

“No no, of course not,” Peter said hastily, grabbing Johnny by the hips and steering him towards the couch. “You sit down, I’ll cook. I can make you some eggs, or… eggs. I can’t really make anything aside from eggs. I think we have cereal.”

Johnny huffed out a laugh. “Eggs are fine Pete,” he said. “You sure you don't want me to cook?”

“You rest babe,” Peter said, pushing Johnny to sit and tugging the blanket around his shoulders a little tighter. He pressed a kiss to Johnny’s forehead. “I’ll take care of everything, don't you worry about anything.”

Johnny let out a long sigh. “Okay,” he said, sagging back into the couch. He looked ill, unshaven and with dark circles around his eyes. Peter was reminded of when he’d come back from the Negative Zone, that first day when he looked so tired, so haunted.

Peter scurried off to the kitchen to make up a batch of eggs. He rushed through it a little and burnt them slightly, but he put the burnt parts on his plate and gave Johnny the good parts. He poured out two mugs of coffee and went back to the living room where Johnny was still sitting on the couch and flicking through the channels.

“Here we are, fresh eggs and coffee,” Peter said. “Nothing but the best for my beau. Well, they’re freshly cooked anyway. Are they fresh eggs right from the chicken’s butthole? I have no idea, but I try not to think about these things. I have other things to worry about, like taxes and bank robbers dressed like furries.”

Johnny laughed, and Peter couldn't help but smile. He scooted closer and laid an arm over the back of the couch, a clear invitation. Johnny leaned into his side and snuggled into him, eating his eggs with a slight smile on his face. Maybe there was hope after all. Peter could do this, he could help Johnny through this.

They sat together for a while, eating their eggs and watching TV snuggled up on the couch. Peter could almost pretend that it was a normal date night, that there was nothing wrong and there wasn’t an oppressive shadow hanging over their heads.

Johnny had finished his eggs and coffee (which Peter was extremely happy about, so many of the articles he’d read had pointed out a lack of appetite as a warning sign) and was laying down with his head on Peter’s lap. Peter gently stroked his fingers through Johnny’s hair, his leg that Johnny wasn’t resting against bouncing with anxious energy.

“Your sister called a few times,” Peter said suddenly, wincing. Why did he do that? “I texted her a bit too.”

Johnny let out a long sigh. “I guess I should call her, shouldn’t I?”

“If you want to,” Peter said. Support networks were good, but trying to push too hard was bad. “You can stay here for a few days if you want. They know you’re here, but you don't have to go home.”

Johnny was quiet for a few moments, before finally sitting up. “That’s really sweet of you Peter,” he said, “but I think we both know we’re just stalling.”

“Yeah,” Peter said sullenly.

“I need to go home,” Johnny said. “I can’t keep running.”

Peter reached out and cupped Johnny’s face, stroking his thumb over the arc of a cheekbone. Johnny’s face was set in determination, the face Peter knew meant that Johnny wouldn't stop until he saw things through. Peter couldn't help it, he leaned in and kissed him.

“I’ll be with you,” Peter promised. “Every step, I’ll be right beside you.”

Johnny pushed forward and nuzzled into him a little. “Thank you,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter said, bringing his other hand up to tilt Johnny’s chin for another kiss. “I love you so much Johnny. More than anything.”

Johnny closed his eyes and smiled. His eyelashes were wet.

* * *

 4 Yancy Street was quiet when they got there, but this late so it wasn't that surprising. The kids were probably in bed by now, though Johnny could see a light on somewhere in the brownstone. He took a deep breath and tried to draw strength from Peter’s hands clasped in his.

For the first few days after he’d run away to Wyatt’s, Johnny had tried to pretend that he was just visiting for a bit, that he needed a break from his family for a couple of days. Wyatt hadn’t believed him for a second, but he’d played along, letting Johnny take the spare room and tinker around in the garage.

Johnny had tried to put the whole mess behind him at first, but the whole experience had ripped open his old scars and pulled up all of his buried feelings of self-loathing and worthlessness. What was even _worse_ was that now his family knew how he felt, which was the last thing Johnny had ever wanted.

When Johnny had been growing up, he hadn’t been immune to his sister’s worries. Sue tried to keep it from him, but he knew she was stressed about so many things and was under a lot of pressure. He’d felt that it wouldn't have been fair of him to bother her with his problems. So he’d kept his feelings to himself, and that had carried on after he’d met Reed and Ben and they became a family. Sue was always stressed about something or other and usually busy with the kids. Reed was amazing, but he had much bigger things to think of than Johnny’s problems. Ben… in the beginning it wouldn't have been fair, to complain about his feelings to Ben, who’d been transformed the way he had. Even as he’d grown closer and come to see Ben as his rock, Johnny couldn't kick the habit.

For days, Johnny had tried to keep a lid on things around Wyatt. He thought that if he just waited long enough, avoided it until something happened and he had to run home to save the world, it would just be forgotten. It had happened before, there was no reason to think that it wouldn’t happen again. Johnny would go home to save the world, things would get busy, and the Thing That Happened to Johnny would get pushed to the back of everyone’s minds. That was fine, Johnny understood, there were more important things to do than deal with his problems. Besides, if Sue, Reed, and Ben could all deal with their own issues, then Johnny should have no trouble dealing with his. He had to grow up sometime, didn't he?

On the fifth day, Wyatt had finally cornered him. It hadn’t been the shouting match or dramatic confrontation Johnny had thought it would be. Wyatt had simply been sitting across from him while they were having lunch one day. Johnny had made some self-deprecating joke, the kind he always made, but Wyatt hadn’t laughed. Instead he’d reached over and laid his hand over Johnny’s wrist.

“Johnny, are you okay?” he’d asked, eyes full of concern.

Maybe it had been the look on Wyatt’s face, or the fact that Johnny had already had his bottled up feelings dragged up to the surface, or maybe Johnny had just been finally too tired to keep his walls up. He broke down, started crying in Wyatt’s kitchen, and confessed everything. What had happened, all his feelings, and how much he hated hated _hated_ himself. Wyatt had listened to Johnny and let him cry, never once seeming bothered by Johnny dumping his mess onto him. He’d been supportive and kind, offering his shoulder to cry on and to put Johnny up for as long as he wanted. Though his original plan had been to extend his stay ‘just another week’ until the Something Johnny was waiting for happened, the thought of going through with that had seemed so trite in the wake of everything. Or maybe Johnny had been trying to escape Wyatt, now that he was exposed.

When he’d flown home, Johnny hadn’t really been thinking about where he was going. He’d flown home so many times that he could fly blind at still end up at Baxter. Johnny had almost landed on the skyscraper before he’d realized what he was doing. Then Johnny had gotten turned around and anxious and ended up just flying over the city trying to clear his head.

That’s when Peter had found him.

No more pretending.

Johnny took a deep breath. “You don’t have to come in with me,” he said, turning to Peter.

From what Johnny had gathered, Peter and his family had a falling out after Johnny had bailed. He didn’t know what had been said, but he got the idea that they weren’t on good terms at the moment.

Peter was staring up at the house with an intensity he usually reserved for going up against his more formidable foes. “I’m with you,” he said, squeezing Johnny’s hand, “one hundred percent.”

Johnny smiled; he didn’t know what he’d done to trick Peter into being in love with him, but he was glad that Peter was by his side. He didn’t know if he’d be able to do this on his own. Just having Peter there, his hand clasped around his, calloused thumb stroking over his knuckles, made Johnny feel better about what was about to happen.

Johnny wasn’t looking forward to what was about to happen.

With another deep breath, Johnny started up the stairs, Peter at his side. He didn't knock, just let himself in with his key. The hall was dark, but he could see the light on in the living room. Peter squeezed his hand, not pushing him forward, but a solid presence for Johnny to push off of. Not stopping to think about it, Johnny headed for the living room.

Sue was curled up on the couch, pouring over a book, Reed at her side, tapping away at a holographic display. Ben was reclined on his favourite chair, watching TV. Ironically it was Alicia who noticed them first, coming up behind them from somewhere else in the house.

“Johnny? Is that you?” she asked, her voice just loud enough to carry into the living room.

Everyone looked up, eyes wide with shock. Johnny tried to smile and lifted his hand to wave, but Sue was already moving. Her book tossed aside, she wrapped her arms around Johnny tightly, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Reed and Ben weren’t far behind. Peter took a step back to let them crowd around Johnny.

Johnny laid his head back against Ben’s rocky shoulder. His shirt was getting wet where Sue had buried her face in it, and Reed was trembling like he did when he was holding himself too tightly, stretchy body ready to snap like a rubber band. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alicia step close to Peter, worry etched on her face. How much had they told her? Did the kids know anything? God he hoped not.

Eventually Sue pulled back, her face streaked with tears. Johnny reached up to wipe them away. She took a shaky breath and looked up into his eyes. “I think it’s time we talk,” she said.

Johnny sighed, a shiver passing through him. “Yeah, I think so too.”

They ended up in the kitchen, mugs of tea made for everyone. Johnny curled his hands around the ceramic, the heat not a bother for him. He wouldn't know what to do with a burn now, not after so long. One time, when he was twelve, he’d stolen a box of matches and lit them one by one, letting the flames get dangerously close to his fingertips. He’d told Sue he’d gotten paper cuts when she’d asked about the bandages on his fingers

The silence that settled around them was as thick as jello, and no one seemed to want to break it first, though they were all desperate for it to shatter. Peter stood in the entranceway of the kitchen, his own mug in his hands, tapping restlessly at it with one finger. Alicia sat next to Ben, her hand resting on his wrist. She’d offered to give them some privacy, but she was part of the family now, and she deserved to be included in family matters. Johnny was just glad the kids had gone to bed.

The silence continued, winding its way around their throats like a snake, squeezing the air out of the room. Johnny felt that if he didn't do something soon, they would get stuck, crystalize forever in a limbo state, wanting to talk but not wanting to break the silence. He struggled not to boil his tea in his mug. He had to _say_ something.

Just as Johnny felt like it would become too late to say anything, Reed sneezed, causing everyone to jolt.

“Sorry, sorry,” Reed said quickly, grabbing a napkin from the stack on the table. “Dust I think.”

Johnny couldn’t help it, he started to laugh. Soon everyone was laughing, the absurdity of the situation making them a little hysterical. Johnny wiped a tear from his eye.

“Okay, okay,” he said, “now that _that’s_ out of the way, we really do need to talk.”

“Right, of course,” Sue said, stifling her giggles. She took a deep breath and then reached out to put her hand on Johnny’s arm, her face going serious. “Johnny I… I’m so _sorry_.”

Johnny took a deep breath. _It’s okay_ , was on the tip of his tongue. _It’s okay, I forgive you, let’s forget this happened and let everything go back to normal._ Johnny was sorely tempted, to just let that be the end of it.

But it wasn’t okay. It hadn’t been okay in a long time.

“I know,” Johnny said, “I never—you were never meant to find out.” He nervously sipped his tea to avoid looking at anyone. “I always tried to just… deal with it on my own.”

Ben made a noise deep in his chest that was half-laugh half-sob. “‘Deal wit it on yer own.’ Kid, we _saw_ what happened in yer head. That ain’t dealin’ wit it.”

“Well I didn't know what _else_ to do,” Johnny snapped. Ben shut his mouth, shock on his face.

“Johnny,” Reed said slowly, like he did when he was trying to understand everything at once, “why didn't you ever tell us? You know we would have helped you.”

Johnny blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. After a second, he shrugged. “It’s not—it doesn't really work that way. I wanted… I wanted to be able to handle it on my own. You guys never seemed to need any help, I should be able to handle my own shit too.”

Sue frowned. “Johnny, you _know_ —”

“It’s not _about_ knowing,” Johnny cut her off. “It doesn’t _matter_ what I know in my head, because my head’s all messed up. If I was healthy enough to talk about my feelings without having my brain turned inside out for my whole family to see, I don’t think I would have been suicidal in the first place.”

There it was, out in the open now. No taking it back.

Johnny took a deep, steadying breath. “There’s a lot… I have a lot of _stuff_ in my head. Stuff I never talked about with anyone, stuff I don't think you guys even saw,” he said, rubbing his eyes. Zodiac beating him with a pipe, Ravonna taking over his body, Lyja stalking him as Laura Green, so many things Johnny had shoved down, pushed out of the way into the corners of his mind, packing it down until it was a thick black sludge that dragged at him with every step.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Johnny said, tilting his head back. “I can’t keep going through life dragging this shit around with me. It feels like I don’t have any room to breathe anymore. I—there’s just so _much_ , and it’s killing me.”

A warm hand landed on Johnny’s shoulder—Peter—and gave a reassuring squeeze. Johnny rested his hand over Peter’s, leaning into the touch. He took a long, deep breath to steady himself.

Sue took Johnny's other hand and squeezed it. "We're here for you Johnny. No matter what. You can talk to us about anything."

Johnny looked at his sister, the woman who'd raised him, been there for him when no one else was. The woman who'd left him, abandoned him on earth while she went to put the multiverse back together, taking his family away, not even letting him know if they were alive. Not bringing Johnny with them, not giving him the _choice_ to decide on his own.

Johnny turned his hand and laced his fingers through hers.

"I know Sue, but... I think I need to take a break," He said.

Reed furrowed his eyebrows. "Take a break? From the Four?" he asked.

"From _you_ ," Johnny said, feeling sick, feeling the wrongness of it all right down to his bones. "I love you all so much, but there's... there's a lot going on. There's a lot between us, all of us, that we've never talked about."

Sue lying to him about their father being alive. Reed lying to him about why they were on a space road trip. Ben lying to him about knowing where the rest of their family was.

Sue squeezed his hand. “Johnny, you know we never meant to—”

“I know you didn’t,” Johnny said, “but that’s part of the problem. You’re always treating me like a kid then turning around and telling me to act like an adult,” he said, running his free hand through his hair, “All of you do it. I’ll try to be responsible, to be mature and do my best to help, but then you’ll turn around and keep things from me, like I can’t handle the truth, like I need to have my ears covered when someone says a dirty word. You won’t let me make my own decisions, but then you’ll get all disappointed when I screw up. It’s hard to get my head on straight when I can’t even figure out how I’m supposed to _act_.”

Johnny sucked in a sharp breath, trying to fight down the cagey feeling in his chest. "I need help. _Professional_ help," he said, squeezing Sue's hand. "And I think we need to spend some time apart."

Ben's face twisted up, but Alicia must have heard his inhale, felt his body tensing, because she jumped in before Ben could voice his protests. "If you think that's what's best for your health," she said, "then we support you Johnny."

Johnny smiled at her even though she couldn't see it. "Thanks Alicia."

Ben grumbled, but didn't say anything against Alicia. Sue looked like she might start crying again and Reed just frowned sadly into his tea. Johnny felt his heart breaking, and he _hated_ himself for it. He hated that he was hurting his family like this, but there was just so much to deal with, so many things that had happened to him that his family, intentionally or unintentionally, was responsible for. Some time away might do him some good.

"I won't be far away," Johnny said. "I'm just going to stay with Peter for a bit. I won't even quit the Four. We can call and talk and stuff, I just... I need to get a little space."

That at least seemed to put everyone more at ease. Reed sighed and ran a hand through his hair, he looked exhausted. Everyone looked tired, as though they'd been worrying themselves sick in the time Johnny had been missing.

_Look at what you did. Look at how much you hurt them._

Johnny closed his eyes against the dark thoughts.

* * *

 After a few more reassurances, Johnny went up to pack a few things, leaving Peter downstairs with the others. Peter could feel the awkwardness creep up his spine and start breathing on his neck. Ben in particular was pointedly Not Looking At Him.

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurted out, “about… all the things I said last time.”

Reed sighed. “No don't be,” he said. “I think we needed to hear it.” He got up and started to gather the empty mugs. “We haven’t exactly been fair to Johnny.”

Peter shifted where he stood, nervous energy bubbling under his skin. “I still shouldn’t have said those things. I was an asshole.”

“What else is new?” Ben gruffed. Peter relaxed a little, if Ben was cracking sarcastic jokes at him, then he probably wasn’t mad anymore. At least not mad enough to try and take a swing at Peter again.

The achingly awkward silence came back and Peter could feel the urge to chew off his own arm returning. “I was against the whole—” he flapped a hand vaguely, “taking a break from you guys thing from the start, by the way.”

Sue looked up with a slight eyebrow raise. “Oh?”

“Well yeah, y’know,” Peter shrugged. “You’re his family. He needs you.”

Sue nodded, looking away. After a moment she said, “I just can’t help but feel like we’ve… like we’ve _failed_ somehow.”

Peter grimaced. “I know how you feel,” he said softly. He kept coming back to the day he and Johnny had finally kissed on the Statue of Liberty, when Johnny had asked him about the phone call. Had he been about to tell Peter about what had happened? What had _nearly_ happened? If Peter had called just seconds later, it would have been too late.

That thought _terrified_ Peter.

“Do you know what his plans are now?” Sue asked.

Peter let out a breath. “A little bit,” he said, “A therapist for sure, that much he made clear. Other than that I’m not sure.”

Sue nodded. “Okay, that’s good. A therapist is good. We can start looking for people, specialists. Someone out there probably has some experience with people with powers. Maybe we can talk to the X-Men?”

“Actually, I think Johnny wanted to handle that on his own,” Peter said, shifting his feet. “I think it’s important that he does it himself.”

Sue jolted slightly, like she just realized what she was doing. “Oh, of course. Yes, that… that’s probably better. For Johnny. It’s better if he does it for himself.”

Reed stood behind Sue and laid his hands on her shoulders. “It’s alright Sue,” he soothed, “I know you want to take care of him.”

Sue made a distressed noise and ran a hand through her hair. “He’s my little brother, I’ve been taking care of him since he was _four_ . I don’t… I don't know how to _not_ take care of him.”

“We’ll figure it out Susie,” Ben said. “We’re a family, we always figure it out.”

Sue nodded, but there were tears in her eyes. Peter wished he could be more helpful, wished he knew what to say. He was good at saying things, riling people up, cracking jokes and making people laugh, but he didn't know what to do here. The idea of trying to make anyone laugh right now just made Peter’s throat constrict.

There was a creak on the stairs as Johnny came down, backpack and luggage bag in tow. He looked tired, but when he caught eyes with Peter he smiled as if to try and convince him that everything was fine. Peter tried to smile back, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m ready,” Johnny said, turning his tired smile on the others.

Sue stood and went to hug her brother. Even though Johnny was several inches taller than her, he still seemed to fold into her somehow.

“It’s just for a bit,” he promised, rubbing her back. “I’ll be around.”

“I know,” Sue said, squeezing Johnny tightly, like he would disappear if she let go. “I just…”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, a deep well of sadness in his eyes.

Johnny went around the room, hugging everyone tightly and promising that he would be just a phone call away, that he would come by to visit and wouldn't drop off the face of the planet. Ben curled himself around Johnny so much that Peter feared for a second that he would refuse to let go.

As they were getting ready to leave, there was a noise in the hallway. Peter looked up to see two pyjama-clad figures, Val and Franklin, coming down to see what was happening.

“Uncle Johnny?” Franklin called as Val ran past him to wrap her arms around Johnny’s middle.

“Where are you going?” Val asked, sounding accusing, but strangely not at Johnny. Her ire seemed to be directed elsewhere.

“Not far,” Johnny promised, wrapping his arms around Val, and then Franklin with her. “You can call me whenever you like.”

“ _Why_ are you leaving?” Val asked, looking up at Johnny, eyes bright with the beginnings of tears.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Peter bit his lip, trying to think of something to say. Val was smart, she’d ran circles around him since his days on the Future Foundation, any lie he tried to cook up would just be dissected under her sharp mind. On the other hand, it seemed _wrong_ to Peter to tell them the truth. Sorry kids, Uncle Johnny wants to kill himself sometimes and being around the family makes it worse so he’s going to shack up with his boyfriend for a bit.

Not exactly PG-13.

Johnny took a deep breath, his eyes catching Peter’s for a moment. He gave another one of his sad, tired smiles and Peter understood. Lies and secrets had gotten Johnny where he was, attempting to deal with all his problems alone and never telling anyone how much he was hurting. Johnny loved his niece and nephew, there was no way he would teach them the same bad habits.

“Kids,” Johnny asked, “do you know what depression is?”

Val furrowed her brows and Franklin looked worried. “That’s when you feel sad all the time, right?” Franklin asked.

“It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain,” Val replied.

“Right,” Johnny said, still attempting to smile. “Well, it turns out my brain is _really_ imbalanced.” At this Peter could see Val squeeze Johnny tighter. “So I’m going to spend some time away. I’ll be close by, I’ll just be staying over at Peter’s for a while.”

“What’s wrong with staying here?” Franklin asked. “If this is about Baxter, I can—”

“No, you don’t need to fix it kiddo,” Johnny said, running his hand over Franklin’s head. “It’s not about Baxter, it’s… it’s a lot more _complicated_ than that.”

“So you have to leave? _Again_?” Val asked. “You just got back! You disappeared and no one would tell me what’s going on!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Johnny said. “I’ll come by tomorrow okay? I’m just… tired tonight.”

Valeria didn't look happy, but she didn't say anything else, only tucked her head into Johnny's chest and hugged him tighter. Peter wished it didn't have to be this way, he wished he could _do_ something about this. He'd hadn't felt this useless since he'd been bitten by that radioactive spider all those years ago, but what could he do? What _was_ there for him to do? There was no way to make it better, for Johnny, for Sue or Reed or Ben, for the kids. There was nothing to fight, nothing to figure out, no one big Solution to everything. There was just Johnny, just waiting, just a slow, agonizing crawl into an uncertain future.

As soon as Johnny extracted himself from the kids, Val turned and stormed off, the door to her bedroom slamming from somewhere inside the house. Franklin stuck around to see Johnny off, though he looked just as miserable as everyone else now. For a moment it looked like Johnny might waffle and decide to stay after all, but he managed to steel himself and gathered up his bags. Peter picked up Johnny's backpack and slung it over his shoulder; it was surprisingly heavy, but still weighed basically nothing to Peter. Johnny tired to smile at Peter, but he just looked tired. Peter took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Ready?” he asked.

“No,” Johnny said, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow. He turned to his family. “I’ll text when I get to Pete’s.”

Sue nodded, her eyes full of tears. Reed put his arm around her and laid his other hand on Franklin’s shoulder. Ben stood a few steps back, arms crossed unhappily and Alicia leaning into his side.

With one last tired smile, Johnny turned to leave, Peter at his side. The door to 4 Yancy Street shut behind them with a soft click, the sound strangely pointed, final. Johnny took a deep breath, starting to shake on the exhale.

“Hey,” Peter soothed, wrapping his arm around Johnny, “let’s get you into a taxi, hey?”

Johnny nodded, but there were tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. Peter found his mouth decided to keep moving. “I’d rent a limo, or a horse and buggy, nothing but the best for you, but unfortunately I no longer have billions of dollars to toss around on pointless opulence. So we’re going to have to settle for a yellow clunker with a cranky driver who only speaks passable English. The car will smell vaguely of mustard and the cabby will try to take us around the long way and get us stuck in traffic,” Peter rattled on, hoping to get Johnny to smile, or at least distract him for a moment.

Johnny huffed out a short laugh. “You’re such a dork,” he said, leaning into Peter’s side.

“Well, you fell in love with me,” Peter pointed out, smiling a little as they walked down to the street, “so what does that make you?”

“Out of my mind,” Johnny replied, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter rested his cheek on Johnny’s head, catching a whiff of his shampoo as they walked. He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the line of warmth that Johnny made at his side. He didn’t know how this was going to turn out, he didn't know how to fix anything, but he was going to stick next to Johnny no matter what.

* * *

 Over the next week, Johnny oscillated between what seemed like two extremes, wanting to run back to his family and pretend everything was fine and knowing he had to push himself to be better and change himself. In a physical sense, he puttered around Peter's apartment, occupying his time by watching TV, checking social media, and doing chores around the apartment.

"Man," Frank hummed, taking another bite of the lasagna Johnny had made, "now I know why Peter switched to being gay for you. This is _delicious_."

"For the last time," Peter grumbled, "I didn't 'switch’ to being gay, I'm bisexual. I always have been bisexual. I was never _not_ bisexual."

"Yeah," Frank said around a mouthful of lasagna, "but weren't you dating Mary-Jane just a while ago?"

"Just leave it be man," Randy said before Peter could begin contemplating rethinking his stance on 'no murder'. "This really is good though Johnny, thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," Johnny said. "I figured if I'm going to be hanging around underfoot, I might as well try and be useful."

Peter swallowed a mouthful of cheese and meat. "I would want you around even if you weren't," he said.

Johnny laughed slightly. "Sure, like you could live without my cooking."

They devolved into a petty argument about Peter's cooking skills, but Johnny couldn't help but notice the way Peter kept glancing at him when he thought Johnny wasn't looking, like Johnny would disappear if Peter didn't keep an eye on him. Johnny appreciated it, he really did, and he also appreciated Peter's unsubtle attempts to tell Johnny how wonderful he was and how much Peter loved him.

For the first few days, Peter had been _terrified_ to do something wrong, to make some sort of comment like he usually did or leave Johnny alone for too long. He'd hovered like a protective bee, trying to keep himself close by in case Johnny needed anything. Johnny, for his part, had gotten quite fed up with this after a couple of days.

"Go to work Peter," Johnny told him after Peter had offered to take another day off of work to spend the day with him. "I don't want to be responsible for you getting fired."

"I won't get fired, Doc Connors likes me too much," Peter said. "And no one would be responsible for me getting fired other than me. That wouldn't be your responsibility no matter what."

"You still need to go to work," Johnny said. "I promise I'll be fine."

Peter shifted around anxiously. "It's really fine. I can say I have stomach flu or something. Spewing out of both ends. Doc Connors won't want me to come anywhere near the lab."

Johnny sighed. "Peter, I'm _fine_. I'm not going to stub my toe and decide to drown myself in the sink," he said.

Peter made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "I just... I'm worried," he admitted.

Johnny sighed and reached for Peter, who obligingly went to him and wrapped his arms around Johnny. "I'm going to be fine on my own for a couple hours Pete, really," he said, burying his nose into Peter's shirt. "I promise I'll be _fine_."

"I know," Peter said morosely. "I just can't stop thinking about it."

Johnny closed his eyes and forced himself not to be mad at Peter. It wasn't his fault that he had to take a trip through Johnny's mind and got some of his worst moments. Peter and everyone had been trying to save Johnny from some weird smoke demon monster thing that Johnny had gotten himself possessed by. They'd been trying to help, they’d been trying to save Johnny’s life.

“I’ll be alright,” Johnny said. “You need to go to work. You can’t spend all your time taking care of me.”

“Watch me,” Peter grumbled. They argued for a little bit more before Peter finally agreed to go back to work, but not without making Johnny swear to call him if anything goes wrong.

“If you feel like you need to talk to someone,” Peter said, shouldering his bag, “you can—”

“Call Sue or Ben or Reed,” Johnny finished for him. “Someone who _doesn’t_ have a nine-to-five and won’t get fired if they get caught texting at work. _Go_.” Johnny gave Peter a shove when it looked like he was about to start arguing again. “You’re going to be late.”

Peter grumbled something about ‘just trying to help’, but obligingly put on his shoes to leave. He stopped at the door and leaned over to press a kiss to Johnny’s lips before he left.

“I love you,” Peter said seriously, like he was trying to make sure Johnny heard him.

“I love you too, go to work,” Johnny said, giving him a final shove out the door. He shut it before Peter could try and offer to spend another day hovering over Johnny’s shoulder, trying to be supportive but mostly being annoying and slightly suffocating.

Now Johnny was alone in the apartment.

Randy had gone to his own job, and Frank had gone off to… do whatever it was that he did, leaving Johnny to his own thoughts. Johnny busied himself with cleaning up from breakfast, but other than that there wasn't much for him to do. With a sigh, Johnny flopped down on the couch and started checking his phone. He had a few spam emails in his inbox, and one from his agent, all of which he deleted. Instagram was pretty dead, so he didn't bother with it much (he wasn’t in a mood to post selfies, he knew he looked like crap). He did managed to write and reply to a few tweets, so at least people weren’t wondering what he was up to (not that Johnny was all that consistent on social media anyway, often being in space or other dimensions).

Mindlessly tapping away at a game for a bit, Johnny eventually sighed and tossed his phone to the side. He’d promised his family that he would start looking for a therapist, and he knew it was important and he shouldn’t wait, but he got so unmotivated the moment he started the search. He’d start getting anxious about things, about whether or not he should be doing this, whether or not he _deserved_ to get therapy. After all, how bad did _he_ have it? He was rich and famous and a superhero, why should he complain? What right did Johnny have getting a therapist when there were people who were struggling with _real_ problems?

Johnny groaned and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. This was starting to get ridiculous. He _knew_ he needed professional help, and he was just making things worse for himself by stalling. On the other hand, was there anyone qualified to deal with the mess that was Johnny’s head? Johnny had depression sure, but he’d also literally _died_ multiple times to protect his family from an extra-dimensional alien horde hell-bent on destroying the planet. That was a bit outside the regular reasons most people went to therapy.

Then again, where did Johnny get off thinking he was too special for therapy? Weird shit happened to a lot of people, what made Johnny any different from them? Johnny couldn't believe he was being so stupidly narcissistic and petty. _He should just go and—_

Johnny growled and patted his face a few times, trying to dislodge the bad thoughts. With a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair and tried to think of what he was going to do. As he sat there, his phone chimed once with a text. His sister checking in on him. As Johnny picked up his phone to reply to her, he had an idea and switched apps to make a call.

 _“Johnny, is everything okay?”_ Sue asked when she picked up.

“Hi Sue, I’m fine,” Johnny said. “How are you?”

Somewhat reassured that her brother was not in the throes of a suicidal mental spin, Sue calmed down and chatted with Johnny for a while. Johnny had been over to Yancy Street a few times, making good on his promise not to be far away, but things were still a little strained. Johnny knew everyone was trying though.

“Hey Sue,” Johnny said when he finally got up the courage, “can you help me with something?”

 _“Of course, what do you need?”_ Sue asked.

“I’m having some trouble finding a therapist,” John said, then proceeded to explain what his thought process had been every time he tried (leaving out the more self-flagellating thoughts he had about himself). “Do you think you could stay on the phone with me while I look for therapists in the area? I know it’s stupid, but I just can’t get myself to actually _do_ anything when I’m alone.”

 _“Oh Johnny it’s not stupid,”_ Sue said. _“Of course I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”_

“Just… just talk to me? While I do this?” Johnny asked. “I think it would help to just have someone talk me through it. Keep me from getting into a spiral.”

 _“Of course,”_ Sue said. _“I’m happy I can help.”_

Johnny smiled and went to fetch his laptop. “Thank Sue,” he said.

It didn't take him long after that to find many different potential therapists in New York and the surrounding areas. With Sue’s advice, he narrowed his search to those who specialized in massive traumas, as well as those with some kind of experience with celebrity lifestyle. In the end Johnny was left with a handful of people who might be able to help him. With a little bit of encouragement from Sue, Johnny even managed to email a few of them to set up potential appointments.

 _“Make sure you stress the importance of privacy,”_ Sue said. _“Money won’t be an issue, but we need to be careful. We don't want this getting out into the media.”_

“‘We’?” Johnny asked.”

Sue paused. _“Sorry, force of habit. This is your thing and I respect that… It’s just…”_

“I know Sue,” Johnny said. He wasn't even annoyed with her, he knew she liked to take charge of any given situation, and she was good at it too. Johnny probably could have left everything up to her and she would have him going to the best therapist for his issues and get him all straightened out in no time.

_Yet here he was, doing everything himself like a petulant teen who whined for more independence. He was probably doing it wrong anyway. He should just give up and crawl home and let her do everything like he always did._

“Hey Sue,” Johnny asked, closing his laptop once the last email was sent, “tell me what the kids are up to?”

Sue quickly launched into telling Johnny all about what had happened that day, and if she suspected anything from the slight waver in Johnny’s voice, she tactfully kept it to herself.

* * *

 It took some trial and error, but eventually Johnny found a therapist he liked. Annabelle Montgomery was exactly the kind of woman you’d expect from someone named ‘Annabelle Montgomery’. She was a stout, plump woman with rosy, lightly freckled cheeks and spoke with a drawling southern accent. She was every bit the southern belle she looked and sounded like, with a kind and polite disposition that put one at ease the moment they met her. Meeting her was like meeting a friend’s grandmother, and the various quilts, hand crocheted doilies and pillows she had around her office, as well as the hand knitted sweaters she wore sold the idea.

“Well then dearie, how has your day been?” Annabelle asked when Johnny arrived at her office.

“It’s been alright,” Johnny said. “The flight over was nice.”

“The weather has been agreeable, hasn’t it?” Annabelle said, gesturing for Johnny to take a seat across from her on the nice plush couch while she sat in her arm chair. “Was there anything you wanted to talk about today?”

“Um, I didn’t really have anything in mind I guess?” Johnny said, sitting down. There was a glass of water set out for him on the table between them, but he didn’t touch it.

Annabelle raised her eyebrow. “You don't sound so sure about that,” she observed.

Johnny had been to see Annabelle three times before, the first two mostly to get to know her and decide if she was the right person to see. The third time they’d gone a little more in depth into what Johnny was dealing with, but they hadn’t really gotten into the nitty-gritty yet. Johnny knew full well what he needed to talk about, the different pitfalls of his brain that needed to be scooped out and examined, but it seemed like such a daunting task.

“I guess we can talk about the time I died,” Johnny said, the words tumbling out before he could reign them in.

“That seems like a pertinent topic of discussion,” Annabelle said, gathering up her notebook and her pen.

“So… do you remember that time I died? It was on the news,” Johnny said.

“I do,” Annabelle said, smiling kindly. “It was quite the buzz for a while, but why don’t you tell what happened?”

Johnny launched into a brief explanation of how the events went down; the gate, the horde, pushing Ben out of harm’s way, fully expecting to die permanently.

“Is that what you wanted?” Annabelle asked. “To die?”

Johnny bit his lip. “Maybe? I’d nearly done it before,” he said. “And it was either that or let Ben do it, and I—I couldn’t let that happen.”

Annabelle made a not on her notepad. “Johnny, do you think Ben deserves to live more than you do?”

Johnny looked into Annabelle’s eyes and felt the overwhelming urge to be honest. “Yes,” he answered.

“Why do you think that Johnny?” she asked.

“Because… well I couldn't just let him _die_ ,” Johnny said.

Annabelle hummed. “That isn’t what I asked dearie. I asked you why you think Ben deserves to live more than you do.”

Johnny shifted on the couch, trying to string the words together. “He’s just… he’s _Ben_ , and I… I’m Johnny.”

“And what makes Johnny less deserving than Ben?” Annabelle asked.

“Because Johnny is _worthless_ ,” Johnny said, the words tearing themselves free. Johnny coughed them up like phlegm that had been stuck in his lungs for far longer than it should have been. “What do _I_ do that’s so damn important? They wouldn’t have survived without Ben. We already lost him once and it nearly killed us. I couldn't handle that again. I couldn’t deal with that. It was better that it was me. They could get over me.”

“They?” Annabelle asked. “Do you mean your family?”

“Yes,” Johnny said. “They went to _Heaven_ to beg for Ben back. If they lost him again while I could have done something, it would have been my fault. I couldn’t let that happen. Not while it could have been me. It _should_ have been me. It was _better_ that it was me.”

With a sob, Johnny realized he was crying. Tears flowed down his cheeks and landed on the backs of his hands clenched in his lap. Johnny tried to wipe his eyes and get himself under control, but now that the dam had a crack in it, it burst open and soon Johnny was shaking he was sobbing so hard.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Johnny got out through his sobs.

“It’s alright dearie, take your time,” Annabelle said, laying down a box of tissues for Johnny to use.

Eventually Johnny managed to calm himself down. “Sorry, that—it came out of nowhere.”

“It’s alright Johnny, not to worry,” Annabelle said.

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that,” Johnny said.

Annabelle smiled. “It’s my _job_ to deal with that,” she replied. “Now, why don't we start at the beginning?”

They talked for the entirety of the rest of the hour, slowly chipping away at Johnny’s psyche. They talked about his self-hatred and the different times he’d nearly killed himself. They discussed the way Johnny spoke to himself, how he thought others must see him. As they talked Johnny kept breaking down and shaking, but it felt good, it felt _better_. There was something terrifying about getting everything all out in the open for another person to see, but it was also liberating. As the hour came to a close, Johnny’s shaking subsided and he managed to get his breathing under control.

“Alright then, I think we’re at time for the day,” Annabelle said, checking her clock. “But we made some great strides today, I’m very proud of you Johnny.”

Johnny sniffed and nodded. “Thanks,” he said. He gathered up the tissues he’d used and incinerated them.

“Same time next week then dearie?” Annabelle asked, marking things down in her agenda.

“Sure,” Johnny said, “unless the world is ending.”

Annabelle laughed. “I’ll keep an eye on the news,” she promised.

Johnny smiled, feeling calmer. He chatted with Annabelle for another minute, working out their schedules and making small talk before he left. As he was leaving, Johnny felt raw and a little shaky, but also lighter than he had in ages. It felt a bit like lancing a wound to get all the crud out. It hurt like hell, but Johnny knew it was better than letting it fester. With a deep sigh, Johnny flamed on and headed home.

* * *

 Sue had been worried about Johnny ‘taking a break’ from the family from the moment he said it was what he was going to do. Johnny had suffered so acutely from _not_ having them around—the memory of Johnny screaming into the sky, begging for them to come back to him still made her eyes sting—that Sue was near certain that it would end badly for Johnny. She shouldn’t have worried though, Johnny either called or came to visit nearly every day, and when he didn’t, he sent at least one text, to her or someone else in the family. He even stayed over a few nights if whatever he was doing stayed late or there was a battle and he was too exhausted to drag himself across town to Peter’s apartment.

Sue understood Johnny’s desire to take a break, put a bit of distance between himself and the rest of them. They hadn’t been fair to Johnny, expecting him to be okay after everything he’d gone through, after everything they’d put him through. No, not expecting necessarily, but _assuming_ that he was okay until the evidence proved otherwise. At best they’d talked here and there—bandaids over bullet holes—thinking it was enough to heal the damage.

When Johnny walked into the living room, Sue smiled but didn’t think too much of it until she remembered that it was Thursday. Johnny had therapy on Thursday afternoons, and he usually went straight to Peter’s afterwards—sometimes the sessions could be difficult on Johnny and he preferred to keep the kids from seeing too much of him in that sort of state.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Sue asked, setting her book down.

“I’m fine,” Johnny said as he came to the side of the couch next to her. He seemed like he was about to sit down, then stopped. “Hey, why don't we go for a walk? Just us two?”

Sue nodded and got up to get her coat. Johnny must have noticed her nervousness and gave her a reassuring smile. Sue forced herself to smile back, but she couldn't quite calm the anxiety curling in her stomach. Was something wrong? Had something happened? Sue tried to think of what might have happened to her brother and couldn't help but consider the worst.

It was chilly out, the seasons finally starting to turn to autumn. Sue pulled her scarf a little tighter around her neck, but Johnny wasn't bothered at all by the cold. He stepped closer to her and Sue sighed when the air around her reached a more stable temperature.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling genuinely now.

Johnny smiled back, “You’re welcome.”

They lapsed back into silence, walking down Yancy street towards a little park. Despite the chill in the air there were people out and about, families with children, couples out with one another, even a few loners getting some fresh air. It all seemed so peaceful. The leaves on the trees were starting to turn from green to yellow, orange, and red, slight wisps of colour hinting at the riot that was to come. The sun was high in the bright blue sky, occasionally ducking behind fluffy white clouds.

Eventually Sue decided to break the silence. There was obviously something Johnny wanted to talk about, and Sue had promised herself that she was going to _ask_ him when it seemed like there was something on his mind. No more waiting for him to break down first.

“How was therapy?” she asked.

“It was good,” Johnny said, getting quiet for a moment. “We talked about Dad.”

 _That_ brought Sue up short. “Oh?” she asked. “How did that go?”

Johnny shrugged. “I don’t really remember him that well,” he admitted. “I was—what, six? Seven? When he died—when he went to _prison_ ,” he corrected. “I don't really have many memories about him other than the way he used to smell like booze and shout at us.”

Sue pressed her lips together. “He wasn’t always like that,” she said, though it sounded hollow.

“I know, but that’s what _I_ remember,” Johnny said. “To be honest, I never really _liked_ him. Just being around him felt like I was walking on eggshells that were on fire.”

“I know,” Sue said sadly. She’d tried to take the brunt of their father’s temper, but that didn't mean Johnny hadn’t been affected by it.

“Well,” Johnny said, “we mostly talked about when he died for real.”

Sue closed her eyes, knowing what they were about to breach. “Johnny, when Dad told me to lie to you—”

“It’s okay,” Johnny said, stopping them and taking Sue’s hand. “I know he asked you to lie, and I get it. You were sixteen and your whole life was suddenly upside down. I probably would have done the same thing in your position.” He stroked the back of her hand, staring down at her. “I’m not mad at you for lying Sue, I’m not even mad that you never told me until it was too late.”

Johnny squeezed her hands. “But we never talked about it, really _talked_ about what happened.” He glanced away for a moment. “And you never said sorry.”

Sue closed her eyes and ducked her head, taking a few deep breaths. She wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly they were hugging. Somehow, even though Johnny had towered over her since he was fourteen, it still felt as though she was wrapping herself around him, protecting him.

“You’re right,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

The two of them found their way over to a bench and sat down. The stone only made her shiver for a moment before Johnny managed to warm it. They sat in silence for a minute, Sue trying to figure out what she needed to say. Johnny seemed to be content to wait for her; he’d said his part, now it was her turn.

“When Dad told me to lie to you, I didn’t even think of arguing,” Sue said. “I think I was relieved too, or at least part of me was. He’d become so… such a _drain_ on me. So when he got sent to prison and begged me to lie to you, to never visit him in prison, I didn’t even question it. I was just glad for the excuse not to feel guilty about it.”

“Was it hard for you?” Johnny asked. He had his arm around her shoulders as they sat.

“Any harder than living with him after the accident?” Sue shrugged. “Not really. Dealing with him was like trying to climb out of an emotional sinkhole. I’d already learned to just… not depend on him anymore.”

Johnny made a noise in his chest. “You always used to talk about our old life like it was so perfect,” he said.

Sue sighed and leaned her head on Johnny’s shoulder. “That was mostly for your benefit,” she said. “Or, maybe it was for me too. I guess I thought… I thought if I could make you believe that our life used to be perfect once upon a time, I could trick _myself_ into believing it too.”

Johnny lifted his hand to run his fingers through her hair. “I used to try to imagine what our life was like before, but I never could,” he said. “I tried to picture Dad being kind and loving, and I tried to remember what it was like to have a mom… but I never could. All I remembered was Dad being a mean drunk, and whenever I think of Mom all I see is you.” He squeezed her shoulder. “ _You’re_ my family, you and Reed and Ben and the kids. I never had any other family.”

“Neither did I,” Sue said, “not really.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asked.

Sue let out a long breath. “I never really told you the truth, did I?” she asked, smiling sardonically. “I never told you how Mom and Dad used to fight all the time. They could barely stand each other sometimes.”

“Really?” Johnny asked. “Then why were they even together?”

“Because Mom got pregnant,” Sue said, looking out over the tops of the trees, letting the words wash over her. “And she didn’t have many options, so, three credits away from a degree in computer sciences, she dropped out of college, married the guy who knocked her up, and then… pretended to be satisfied with that.”

“Jeez,” Johnny breathed. They sat in silence for a while, the wind brushing past them and the sounds of the park floating above them. Sue took measured breaths and tried not to let the old sting creep up on her.

“It wasn't always bad,” Sue said. “They didn’t _hate_ each other, and it wasn’t like they were always at each other’s throats. They got along most of the time.”

“Still, that can’t be an easy thing to live with,” Johnny said. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine,” Sue said, patting Johnny’s knee. “I put it behind me years ago. I’ve got a wonderful life now. I’ve got my own family, my own kids, I don't want to worry about what a crapshoot my childhood was.”

Johnny was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you should talk to someone about it?” he suggested.

Sue smiled. “Maybe,” she said.

“I’ve still got a list of people,” Johnny said. “I could recommend a few I think you might like.”

“I might take you up on that,” Sue said. “You seem to be doing much better since you started seeing Annabelle.”

“I have,” Johnny said, smiling brightly. “It’s been going really well. Even when it gets a little rough.”

Sue smiled up at him. “I’m glad,” she said. The memory of Johnny’s despair crawling through her brain made her smile fade. “Johnny… I’m so _sorry_ that I never noticed what you were going through.”

Johnny let out a long sigh, seeming to try to pick his words carefully. “Sue, do you remember when I broke my wrist?”

“When you were ten?” Sue asked, the leftover memory of Derek crushing his wrist under his foot making her skin crawl a little. Worse was her own memory of accusing Johnny of having fallen out of a tree, not bothering to question him further. “I remember.”

“Want to know what I remember most about that day?” Johnny asked.

Sue remembered being stressed about the medical bill, arguing with Aunt Marygay about cutting the dead tree in the yard down, and wishing that she could be anywhere that wasn't her life. “What?” she asked.

“I remember the day _after_ ,” Johnny said, “You let me stay home from school, and we went out to the dollar store and got a pack of markers. We spent the whole afternoon colouring my cast, and the rest of the day watching movies.” He smiled down at her. “ _That’s_ what I remember the most when I think about that day.”

Sue looked up at Johnny and smiled. “Yeah, that was nice,” she said.

Johnny smiled down at her and wrapped his arms around her in a kind of side hug. “We’re okay Sue,” he said.

Sue tucked her head against Johnny’s and closed her eyes, feeling the cool breeze on her face. “We’re okay,” she agreed.

* * *

 When Johnny had first started going to therapy, Peter had been a little sceptical. Not about Johnny seeing a therapist—even though Peter preferred to keep his emotions close to the chest, he knew that didn’t work for everyone—but about how it seemed to be effecting Johnny. Some days Johnny came home bright and cheerful, looking like he could take on the world and come out swinging. Other days Johnny came home looking like he’d been through the wringer and left out in the rain, worn and tired and worse than ever. It tore at Peter’s heart to see him that way, no matter how much Johnny tried to assure him that this was normal and there was nothing to worry about.

Beyond that, there were days where Johnny seemed to struggle through even the simplest of tasks. Johnny could spend hours in bed, or just staring at the wall, and nothing Peter could do seemed to be able to snap him out of it fully. Johnny would smile and go through the motions, but when Peter looked hard enough he could see that his heart wasn't in it. Peter was literally driving himself up the wall trying to figure out how best to help.

Johnny was sitting on the couch, channel surfing listlessly for just something to do. It was the weekend, so Peter actually had some time off. Normally he’d head out swinging, but there was something about the sight of Johnny sprawled over the couch that made him too anxious to think about leaving him alone.

“Hey, why don’t we go out?” Peter suggested, leaning over the back of the couch to press an upside-down kiss to Johnny’s forehead. “Get lunch or something?”

Johnny hummed and leaned back over the couch to stare up at Peter. “Nah, I’m not really hungry. You can go out if you want though.”

Peter did _not_ want that. He tried to think of something else to try and put a smile on Johnny’s face. “How about a race then?” he suggested. “It’s a lovely day out.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow and looked out the window at the grey, overcast sky. “Really?” he said.

“Of course!” Peter said, hopping over the couch to try and tug Johnny off of it. He could have just picked Johnny up, and the couch too, but he only gently tugged at Johnny’s hand. “Come on, we’ll race to the usual place.”

It took a little more cajoling, but finally Johnny got off the couch and followed Peter to the bedroom for a quick change and then out the window. Johnny swooped over the city and Peter quickly followed, keeping Johnny in his sights at all times. After a few minutes of playfully chasing one another across the city, Johnny’s spirits seemed to start lifting. Peter cracked a few jokes and Johnny laughed, the sound bright and clear and music to Peter’s ears. They took the long way around the city, taking their time, growing increasingly petty and competitive. Peter swore viciously when Johnny cut too close and melted a webline, causing Spider-Man to nearly splat into a billboard.

By the time they reached the usual place they were both giggling and leaning on one another. Johnny flopped down to sit on Lady Liberty’s head, wiping tears from his eyes. Peter plopped down next to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. They stayed that way for a while, watching the city frantically trudge through the day despite the weather. The sky was that off-white greyish colour that hid the sun but didn’t promise anything like rain. The wind was particularly toothy, nipping at Peter’s nose even through his mask. The whole world seemed oddly colourless, washed out and worn at the edges.

Peter stole a glance at Johnny, still worried about his mood. Johnny was seemingly deep in thought, watching the water below them. The water was a greenish-grey today, choppy from the wind, wisps of white foam getting blown around from time to time. Peter swallowed and tugged up his mask.

“Whatcha thinkin about?” Peter asked, forcing himself to ask casually.

Johnny looked up into Peter’s eyes. He didn't answer right away, looking for something in Peter’s face for a moment. Eventually he smiled softly, sadly. “Drowning,” Johnny answered.

Peter sucked in a breath, his body tensing. Almost instinctively he gripped Johnny’s shoulder tighter, pulled him closer, like he could physically stop him from taking a running leap off the statue. Johnny just smiled and laid his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything,” Johnny said. “It’s just one of those days.”

Peter tried and failed to suppress his nerves. “Do you have a lot of ‘days’?” he asked.

“They come and go,” Johnny said. “I’ve been having less lately.”

“Good,” Peter said. They sat in silence for a few minutes. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ve been this way since I was a kid Peter,” Johnny said. “I’ve survived this long, I’ll be okay.”

“You almost didn’t,” Peter pointed out. “Johnny, I saw, I _felt_ , I know how close you—”

“Peter,” Johnny cut him off, “there isn’t anything that _anyone_ can do. Some days… some day are just going to be like this.”

Peter’s gut churned, but Johnny had more to say. “It’s called passive suicide ideation,” he explained, “and it’s apparently really common for people with long term depression. I don't feel like _killing_ myself, but I don't _not_ want to die. I’m not actively suicidal, and I’m not a danger to myself or others, but I look out at the water,” he demonstrated by leaning up slightly to look over the river—Peter panicked slightly and pulled him back against his side—“and I just… think about it.”

“That doesn’t sound like ‘not being dangerous’ to me,” Peter said. That sounded awful and like Peter should get Johnny away from any large bodies of water ASAP.

Johnny let out a long sigh. “It’s hard to explain,” he said, “but trust me, I’ll be fine.”

“I do trust you,” Peter said, trying not to think about everyone else he’d trusted in his life, people he’d trusted to always be there, only to have them ripped out of his hands by forces outside his control.

Johnny closed his eyes and curled up into Peter’s side. They stayed that way for a while, Peter swimming in his own anxiety, trying to think of things he could do to help Johnny out of his mood, to show him that life was worth living and he should never have to feel the way he did. Peter had accepted his inevitable death a long time ago, he’d had too many close calls not to at least _consider_ it, but actively contemplate it as an _escape_ ? It had never crossed his mind. The idea that Johnny did, that more than simply accepting death, he _coveted_ it, seemed all sorts of wrong to Peter.

“I can _feel_ you tying yourself in knots,” Johnny said, pinching Peter’s side. “Cut it out.”

“I can’t,” Peter said. “It doesn’t seem normal. It doesn't seem healthy.”

“It’s not,” Johnny said, “that’s why it’s called _mental illness_ , dolt.”

Peter grumbled, unhappy but not knowing what to do about it. He hated knowing that Johnny felt that way about himself. He knew there was nothing he could do, but that didn't stop him from wanting to protect Johnny.

_You’d never let anything happen to him, but what happens when the thing that happens to him is himself?_

“I just wish I knew what to do,” Peter said. “I wish I knew how to fix it.”

Johnny shifted to look up at Peter better. “Pete… you know that this isn’t going to go away, right? It doesn’t… it doesn’t work like that.”

Peter frowned. “You’ve been doing better though.”

“Yeah _better_ , but that doesn’t mean I can ever be _cured_ ,” Johnny said. “This isn’t something that ever goes away. I’m never going to _not_ have these thoughts.”

The idea that Johnny would always feel this way, that he was never going to stop feeling like maybe the world would be better off without him, made Peter’s heart clench painfully. “There isn’t any—I don’t know—medication? Something to help? Aren’t you going to therapy for a reason?”

Johnny sighed and sat up, scooting around so he was sitting face-to-face with Peter. Peter squirmed uncomfortably under Johnny’s gaze, having the sneaking suspicion that he’d just fucked up somehow. At the very least Johnny wasn’t setting him on fire, only looking at him like he was trying to see into his mind. Peter tried to sit still and keep his mouth from saying anything stupid.

“Torchie?” Peter asked, his willpower to keep his mouth shut failing in record time. “Am I in trouble or are you just trying to freak me out?”

“You’re not in trouble, and I’m not trying to freak you out,” Johnny said, eyes softening somewhat. “Peter… I need you to understand something.”

“Is this about the difference between Gucci and Louis Vuitton again? Because we both know that’s not going anywhere,” Peter said, unable to stop himself.

“ _Peter_ ,” Johnny said, leveling him with a stare. “This is serious.”

“I know,” Peter said solemnly.

Johnny sighed. “Peter… depression like mine—the kind that you have your whole life—it doesn’t really go away, _ever_ . It’s not like a—a cold or flu or something, it’s like _cancer_ . It stays inside of you, eats away at you, until you feel like there’s no more _you_ , there’s just the cancer. You can treat it, but there’s no cure, and treating it is _painful_ ; there’s a chance you die anyway. And even if you beat it, go into remission or whatever, that doesn’t mean that it’s over. There’s always the chance that it comes back, that it gets worse next time. And you have to live with that, knowing it could come back like that. It just… becomes a part of your life.”

Peter nodded, trying to absorb it. In his head he knew that Johnny was going to struggle through this for likely the rest of his life, but his heart ached at the idea. He wanted to make it better, take out all the bad in Johnny’s head and leave him with nothing but the good.

If he did that though, how much of Johnny would be left? The thought made Peter a little ill.

Johnny, as though sensing Peter’s thoughts, reached forward and cupped Peter’s face. “Hey,” he breathed, smiling, “it’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. I’m already having more good days than bad days.”

Peter cupped his hand around Johnny’s leaning into it. “I know,” he said, “I just…” He looked out over the water, at the city. The wind chose that moment to whip past them, cold and sharp enough to snatch the breath out of Peter’s mouth. He shivered.

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed with all of the unsaid things. He ran his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone, then scooted forward to cuddle into his side again. Peter obligingly wrapped an arm around him.

“What can I do to help?” Peter asked softly.

“You just being here is good,” Johnny said. “You, Sue, my family, it helps so much, just having you around. When they were gone I—”

“I know,” Peter said, closing his eyes for a second, trying to forget the memory of Johnny dropping towards the water like a falling star. “Anything else?”

Johnny curled tighter into Peter’s side. “Just… don’t _leave_ , okay?” he asked, sounding a little fragile. “I know that’s a shitty thing to ask but—”

“Never,” Peter promised. “I’m not leaving you Johnny. Don't think that for a second.”

Johnny let out a long sigh. “Thank you,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter said.

They stayed there for a long time, curled up together and taking comfort in one another’s presence. Around them the day remained grey and dreary, the occasional gust of bitter wind flinging moisture into their faces. In the far distance was a cluster of storm clouds, dark grey and surly, promising icy, pelting rain in the near future.

Above them, for just a moment, the clouds thinned and the sun shone through. It was almost as if it was trying to say ‘I’m still here, don't worry’, before it faded back behind the sheet of grey. The warmth of it lingered on Peter’s face for just a moment longer.

“It really is kind of a nice day out,” Johnny said softly.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, “kind of is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was going to be a scene where Sue confronted Brittney, but I decided it would have cut the flow up too much. This is ultimately Johnny's story, and it would have taken too much away from that. The stuff about Sue and Johnny's mother marrying their father because she got pregnant is made up by me and doesn't come from canon, but we never really know how Franklin and Mary got together, though we do know that they fought a lot. I decided to take some creative liberties with it to add to Sue's mentality.
> 
> Coming up with Annabelle was kind of interesting because I had to consider what kind of person Johnny would respond to. I figured a kindly older woman would be the best bet. Slightly reminiscent of Sue, enough to be comforting but not enough to be too obvious, not at all like a fatherly type (it's not really discussed in canon, but I'm 98% sure Johnny has daddy issues. Someone please write daddy!kink SpiderTorch please I am thirsty), as well as being entirely removed from the celebrity lifestyle Johnny's lead, and over all just a kind, non-judgemental person. I know the stereotype of the passive aggressive southern older lady, but there was a part with her having a Korean immigrant husband that got the chop for length. I mostly just liked voicing a sweet granny type.
> 
> I also had a good time getting into other people's reactions to Johnny's depression, showing how it effects not only Johnny, but the people around him. In particular I liked showing Reed's reaction, looking back through the years with the hindsight of knowing Johnny is depressed, as well as looking forward and imagining his own children having to go through the same thing. I also had fun with Peter trying to 'fix' everything even though that's completely not how it works. He's trying his best, but he has to understand it first.
> 
> There's a lot here that speaks directly back to my own experiences with depression, particularly the passive suicide ideation. Some days are just… bad. There's no reason to be so emotional or want to jump in front of the train, but some days you get off at the wrong metro stop and have to sit down and cry about it. Just happens sometimes. The best thing to do is to surround yourself with people who care, who will stop and ask, "Hey, you okay?" If you're struggling with depression, my advice is to go to someone you trust and talk to them about it.
> 
> Hope it made your heart hurt and I hope you enjoyed it!


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